


Stuck Between Our Memories and Our Dreams

by kirene451



Category: Block B (Band), GOT7, KOZ Entertainment, Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut, Travel, Vacation, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 90,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirene451/pseuds/kirene451
Summary: Seungyoon co-owns and works in a record store in Toronto, while Minho struggles as a contractual illustrator and graphic designer in Seoul after studying for some years in Paris.They meet for the first time in Hawaii during their respective vacations. Seungyoon is there with his longtime boyfriend Jaebum. Minho is enjoying time off work with his friends Jihoon and Jiho.While Seungyoon's relation with Jaebum is not going that well, Minho is growing tired of sleeping around with strangers to ease the pain of a rough breakup that happened a year ago and the lingering thought of the one he called his blue rose.This fic was originally posted on AFF (from July to November 2020).
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Kang Seungyoon, Kang Seungyoon/Song Minho | Mino
Kudos: 14





	1. Arriving in Hawaii

**{Seungyoon}**

We arrive at the hotel by the end of the morning. In the lobby, while checking in, I look around. The hotel, owned by Jaebum’s uncle, is clean, well decorated and yet feeling somehow stuck in an era of nostalgia. Jaebum chose the hotel for our vacations in Hawaii, following the steps of his late father who came to visit his brother here every winter.

The establishment is not too crowded and it’s a relief. I hate it so much when there are too many people around, and, since things have been rocky between Jaebum and me lately, growing distant from one another, I really hope this one week’s vacation will reunite us.

It's about noon when we settle in the room and both change into more comfortable clothes after the long flight. Jaebum decides to take a nap. I know that he planned this trip to compensate for the lack of sleep of the last months, so I take a book, my pack of cigarettes and a bottle of water, and I make my way to the balcony while he sleeps.

The balcony is on the ground level but because our room is on the top of a hill, I can see the ocean and the beach in the distance behind those magnificent palm trees. It is pretty hot outside compared to the freezing air conditioning in the room, so I take off my shirt to enjoy the warmth on my skin. I light a smoke and continue reading my detective novel.

As I finish the chapter and look at the horizon, I see some vacationers pass by on the road not far from where I sit, with towels in their hands, going in an opposite direction from the ocean. Curious, I go back inside the room to find the map of the resort. Is there a pool nearby? It could be nice to enjoy a fresh swim without having to walk all the way to the beach, as I wanted to enjoy that particular expedition with Jaebum later tonight.

My index finds our room on the map of the hotel, then traces the road up to a pool and a bar just around the corner. Sweet! I write a little note to Jaebum next to the map where I circle the pool. I take my book, my camera and a towel, and I leave the room.

~ °°° ~

The surroundings of the pool are so calm, I actually don't believe it. I know Jaebum’s father used to come here because not only the hotel belonged to his older brother, but also because it was mostly visited by elderly people and there were no big parties and loud music. However, right now, I am truly amazed at the surreal atmosphere of the place.

There are only a few people in the pool and a couple of a certain age at the bar talking softly while sipping their drinks. Some jazz music is playing. I can hear the ocean in a distance. It's perfect.

I choose a chair on the side of the pool, and I open my book to the next chapter. A waiter passes by bringing me an ashtray and a gin and tonic. I thank him, thinking it's a good thing that I actually like G&T as I light a cigarette.

Time flows slowly as I get caught up in the plot of the story. Suddenly, a phrase from the book catches my attention, makes my thoughts derail, and I stop reading to look at the water, thinking about Jaebum. About how he seems to have drifted off these past months. About how I love him. About how I miss him. A wave of sadness overwhelms me, and for a second I lose myself in the memories.

A voice brings me back.

"Excuse me..."

I lift my eyes and look at the young man standing in front of me. Baggy swimwear, lean torso, weird tattoos, wet hair, kind smile.

"Yes?"

"Sorry, I saw you smoke, and I was wondering… Can I ask you for a cigarette? I left mine in my room."

I can't help but chuckle. Even here, more than 7000 kilometers from home, there is always a stranger asking me for a cigarette.

"Yeah, sure."

I take my pack of smokes and give him one.

"Thanks. Can I?" He asks while leaning to take my lighter.

I simply nod. Water drips a little from his hair, falling on my book and my naked thigh. I feel the droplet roll on my skin, taking refuge between my legs and the sensation does not leave me indifferent. I take another cigarette, trying to hide any inappropriate reaction of mine. God, I bless my black shades right now!

Looking at my face, as if trying to decipher my expression, the man lights my cigarette, then his. My heart suddenly beats faster. He leaves the lighter on the table, smirking, and, without saying a word, waves at me while going back to his friends by the pool.

I watch him walk back and all I can see is this 7-letter tattoo on his lower back: _PLAYBOY_. I chuckle. You have to be kidding me. Who is that fucking guy? And why is my heart beating so loudly in my ears? This is stupid.

The waiter comes by, exchanges the finished drink for a new G&T. I take a big sip of the drink, hoping it will chase the weird feeling in my chest. I open the book again, try to read, but my mind wanders again. I wonder if Jaebum is about to wake up. I check my phone to see that it is almost 5 o'clock. Oh well, he'll know where to find me if he wakes up one day. I crash my cigarette in the ashtray, and I lift my eyes to the turquoise water.

The guy is still there, sitting on the edge of the pool, feet in the water, his arms stretched behind his back, while his friends play and chat. I cannot hear what they are saying from that distance, but at some point, the tattooed guy laughs at something another guy says and then lifts his head up and his gaze meets mine. He smiles at me, stands up, and walks towards me. I slightly panic. Why am I panicking?

"Hi again! My friends and I are going to grab a bite at the restaurant down the road. Do you want to join us?"

He lends out a hand.

"I'm Minho by the way."

I look at his hand hanging there in front of me, and I can’t decide whether to shake it or not. The guy seems to sense my hesitation as he suddenly passes his hand in his hair with a little nervous laugh. I finally manage to get some words out of my mouth.

"Nice to meet you, but I'm actually waiting for my boyfriend. He was taking a nap, but I'm pretty sure he'll be here soon."

"Oh. Okay, well then, if you are both looking for a place to eat, the bistro down this road is pretty amazing. We'll be there if you guys want to join us."

I feel a sudden urge to flee. While he talks, I grab my things and get up.

"Thank you, it's really nice of you. Actually, I'll better go see if my boyfriend is up. Bye."

And before he says anything else, I turn around and leave as fast as possible. My heart is beating in my ears. What is wrong with me? I need to calm down, breathe, find my inner peace. Why am I so agitated?

~ °°° ~

When I get back to the room, I hear the shower. My heartbeat slowed a bit on the way back, and I decide to push all thoughts aside. I enter the bathroom, get rid of my clothes and join Jaebum in the shower. At the contact of the water, I realize I didn't even take a swim in the pool like I said I would.

"You went exploring?" Jaebum says, kissing my cheek under the sparkling water.

I smile, my hands roaming around his arms, his chest, his back.

"Yes. I went by the pool to read a little. Drank some gin & tonic, relaxed a bit. It was nice."

"You didn't go to see the beach?"

"I was waiting to do that with you when you'll get up."

Jaebum gets out of the shower.

"You've already finished taking your shower?"

"Yes. You can take the soap and the shampoo on the shelf if you want."

"Okay."

I suddenly feel extremely sad, like all the weight of the universe press down on my heart. Was I really expecting something? Shower sex? It must have been a month or maybe two since the last time Jaebum and I had sex. I take it on myself not to feel down and I get out of the shower, tucking myself in a large towel and head out to the room. I grab a shirt and some pants and put them on as Jaebum finishes getting dressed.

"Are you hungry?" He asks.

"Oh my god, yes. I'm so hungry! Let's go to the hotel restaurant eat all the food we can!"

"I looked at the map when I got up and saw that there is a bistro not far from here, just next to the pool where you went. We could go there."

The suggestion makes me uneasy. I really don’t want to meet the boys from the pool again... Not now.

"Nah... Can we go tomorrow? I want to see the beach and I heard there is a nice walk there from the main restaurant. We could take a stroll after supper. What do you think?"

Jaebum shrugs his shoulders and the both of us head out to the main restaurant.

~ °°° ~

That night, on the beach, as we walk side by side, my heart is happy and content. I take off my shoes to feel the sand between my toes. Jaebum does the same. The moon is big and high in the sky and it is shining on the both of us, between the leaves of the palm trees. I look into Jaebum's eyes.

"I know we don't say that to each other much these times, but I love you. Very much."

Jaebum smiles, and leans forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

"I love you too, my love."


	2. The Three Musketeers

**{Minho}**

I wake up in a bed. Not mine. Again.

The room is empty. I find my clothes on the floor, get somewhat dressed and head outside. The sun is blazing, and my head is split in two. I get to our room. Jiho is in the shower. Jihoon is making his bed.

"Minho! You're back! Did you eat? We just came back from the restaurant."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm not hungry. I need water."

I open the fridge and take a cold bottle of water. I press it on my forehead. The pain slowly starts to fade.

"We're going to the pool. Do you want to come? We'll get you a coffee at the bar."

"Yes, sure."

The end of our first vacation in a long time is drawing near. I try to remember, even though my head hurts from all the drinks of the previous night, when was the last time Jiho, Jihoon and I got to spend time all three together like this. I think we were still in college and it was one of our famous weekends in Jeju, before I went to study in Paris. Before I met _her_ , and everything else I wish to forget.

Even though I know this is some trick from Jiho's master-evil plan to get me to accept a job at his office, I am quite happy to see my longtime friends and spend time reminiscing our glorious jackass days of college. I know Jiho worked his ass off to be able to offer me a job at his company, but I'm not sure if I really want to work exclusively for one magazine. I really like choosing my contracts, doing different stuff, from illustrating children's books to designing logos and banners for websites. It's precarious, but I feel free. And that feeling doesn't have a price tag.

The needles in my brain are almost gone when Jiho gets out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, our sexy adventurous Minho is back! Was he good? Or, were you with that cute waitress? I don't remember which one you chose."

"Shut up, hyung," I reply. "You're just jealous."

He chuckles.

"Maybe I am."

I love Jiho, but, sometimes, he is an asshole. And, now that our vacation is coming to an end, I know I will have to give him an answer about the job offer.

~ °°° ~

We eventually got to the pool. The coffee helped melting down the hangover. Water from the pool too. Damn, this is the good life. As I sit on the edge of the pool, Jihoon tells us about the time we broke out of our dorms and "stole" (just borrowed) bikes to go to a concert in downtown Seoul. I remember that time. We got there and met our math teacher in a mosh pit and that's how we got busted. But we couldn't stop laughing at the fact of seeing this uptight guy at a punk concert. Oh, good times! We really were like the Three Musketeers during those years...

As I listen to all the stories of our past, I feel an urge to smoke a cigarette, but I realize I left mine in my room. I remember the guy I spotted smoking on the other side of the pool a little earlier. I look up and find him still sitting on one of the poolside chairs. I get up and walk toward him. The man is bare-chested, his abs softly sculpted, his skin looking smooth and silky. I lick my lower lip without giving it a thought while I get up to the guy. He has an open book in his hand, but his eyes are looking at the water as if he's deep in his thoughts. I hesitate. I don't want to disturb the man in his trail of thoughts. I take a second to look at his face. Even though he is wearing sunglasses, I can see the crease between his eyebrows and the sad shape of his lips. Looks painful. Maybe it would be a good thing to shake him out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

He lifts his head, startled, and looks at me. I can see his eyelashes fluttering behind his tainted glasses.

"Yes?"

I sense his eyes analyzing every inch of my body. Just like I did with him before. I smile and ask him for a cigarette. He smirks, his lips twisted in a smile. I think I like that. He gives me a cigarette. I decide to push a little to see if there could be any further interest. I do want to have a little fun later, and this guy is gorgeous. I lean in to grab his lighter, hovering over him a second. His cheeks turn red and he grabs himself a cigarette too. I light his, then mine. As I try to look into his eyes, I can't get an eye contact. He's flustered. I smirk, leaving the lighter on the table, and walk back to Jiho and Jihoon. I think I made an impression. I'll let that steep a little.

When I go back, Jiho is giving me a curious look.

"What?" I ask him.

"Give me a puff."

I pass him the cigarette. He draws a long puff and gives it back to me.

"Are you shopping for your next fuckbuddy? Or can we expect you to sleep in your bed in our room tonight?"

Jihoon hits Jiho behind his head.

"Shut up. Let him be. There are only two beds in our room anyway! And I don't want to share mine!"

Jiho laughs.

"I was just kidding! Almost..."

I laugh.

"It's okay. I don't know yet."

"He looks yummy," says Jiho. "You should invite him to eat with us later."

"Yeah, I could do that."

I look in the direction of the guy in the long chair, and I see him already looking at us. Did he hear us? I walk up to him again. He seems startled. Everything in his body language screams, "don't talk to me". I read him wrong. He's definitely not interested. Nonetheless, I invite him to have lunch with us. As he doesn't respond, I give out my hand.

"I'm Minho by the way."

And he doesn't shake it. This is awkward. I'm about to say to forget it and go back to Jiho and Jihoon when he suddenly starts to talk really fast.

"Nice to meet you, but I'm actually waiting for my boyfriend. He was taking a nap, but I'm pretty sure he'll be here soon."

Oh. Boyfriend. I see. Oh well. I do reiterate my invitation to him and his boyfriend but before I can finish talking, he picks up all his things, mumbling about going back to his room and storms off. I hear Jiho's laugh behind my back.

"Yo! Minho, you were supposed to invite him, not scare him off!"

I walk back to them. Jihoon is crying while laughing. Jiho is smirking at me.

"What did you tell him? I've never seen anyone run away from you before."

"Leave it. He has a boyfriend. I won't chase."

Jiho's smirk stays on his lips as his eyes seem to pierce my soul.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go eat."

~ °°° ~

Later that night, Jiho and I went walking after a few drinks at the bar.

"You know, it's really a great opportunity for you."

"I know, hyung. I know."

He takes a step further and start walking backward to face me.

"It's a steady job. Good pay. Nice people to work with. Working with me."

"I like choosing my contracts, Jiho. I like having that liberty. Choosing when I work with pressure, and when I take time to start my own projects. I'm not sure I want to cage myself in an office."

"You won't be caged. And you will find time to work on your side projects. It's just... it would give you stability. And I know you're growing tired of your 'bohemian' lifestyle."

His voice grew concerned. I hate this conversation. Because I know where it's going.

"Minho, it's been almost two years since you came back from Paris. Isn't it time to turn the page?"

"Hyung... Don't, please..."

"I know you suffered a lot. I know that. And I get it that you don't want to feel trapped. But I want to help you. I really do. I worked hard to have you this job. Because I want you to feel safe, not having to run from a contract to another, never knowing if you'll find work the next day..."

"I have to think about it, Jiho. I don't want to talk about this now. I still need time to think about this."

I feel Jiho's arm circling my shoulders.

"It's okay, Minho. Take all the time you need."

We stop at the edge of a little hill and sit down. At our feet, the beach goes a long way under the moonlight. I can hear the waves crashing on the sand. I light a cigarette, giving one to Jiho.

"Isn't that the guy from the pool?" Jiho asks, pointing the two figures walking on the beach below us.

I take a look at them as they kiss. I turn my head to Jiho, feeling slightly voyeur. Jiho, on the other hand, keeps looking at them.

"His boyfriend is a snack! I get him. I wouldn't know who to choose between you and that man."

"Stop it, Jiho. Come on, let's go back to our room."

I butt out my cigarette in the grass and get up. Jiho softly chuckles and does the same.

"You're an asshole, you know that, Jiho?"

"Yeah, I know. And I know you like it."


	3. New Friends

**{Seungyoon}**

The next day, I wake up to an empty bed. I look at the clock.

_8:00_

I wonder why Jaebum is not here. I get up to find a note next to the TV.

_Went to the gym. Be back by 9._

I look at the map to locate the gym. My stomach grumbles. I won't wait an hour to eat. I have to find something to make me wait until breakfast. I check the map and realize the gym is far from the room, on the other side of the resort. Damn it. I take the room's phone next to the bed and order coffee and pastries. While waiting, I take a shower and get dressed in a simple shirt and a pair of Bermuda shorts. When I get out of the bathroom, the coffee and the pastries are waiting for me on the table. I grab myself a cup of coffee and a bun and I go out to the balcony.

It is still early and, besides the sound of the waves and some lonely seagulls, all I hear is the wind in the palm trees. I feel good, relaxed. I'm happy Jaebum started going to the gym here. Training has been a great way for him to move out of his depressed feelings these past months. I believe he had made peace with himself, with the tormenting thoughts in his head. It wasn't all gone, but at least he wasn't so lost anymore, he listened to me, to others. He was less angry about everything. His mood improved a lot, and I'm pretty sure it was part of the benefits of physical activity. All he needs now is a place to relax for a couple of days and this place is perfect.

On the other side, I haven't been good with my health lately. In the last months, I started smoking again and drinking a little more than what I am usually used to. I nearly made a fool of myself the last time I got drunk with friends, saying things I didn't wish to tell people, declaring stupid stuff. I'm pretty sure I cried at one point. I am quite ashamed of my behaviour that night, but then again, it's already done and the only thing I can do now is to be sure it doesn't happen again.

As I am deep in my thoughts, my head bent back to the chair, blowing the smoke of my cigarette in the air, I hear some soft noise on the balcony next door. There is a white wall between the two balconies so I can't see the neighbour as he can't see me either. I butt out my cigarette, finish my cup of coffee and get up to get some more. When I come back from the room with the coffee pot, I see the tattooed guy from the pool coming out of the neighbour's balcony and casually sit on the grass, lighting up a cigarette. My heart jumps. He looks at me quite surprised.

"Good morning there. I didn't know you were our neighbour."

Of course, that guy would be the guy next door. That's my luck. I nod as a sole reply, and he nods back, looking uneasy and turning his gaze to the ocean. I pour myself a cup of coffee, trying not to look directly at him, but I can't help but contemplate his tattoos. They are kind of weird, in a sense that they are quite eclectic, patchy. I can tell they all mean something, but the overall look is giving me a neglected punk vibe. The young man is wearing a large cut-up sleeveless shirt that shows almost everything except his nipples and his navel. And yet again, I'm pretty sure that if he turns around a little, I'll see everything. His body is lean and muscular, his skin naturally tanned. In the direct sunlight, his high cheekbones and his jawline are quite mesmerizing. I'm still admiring the view when he gets up and walks toward me.

"I'm sorry. I think we got out on the wrong foot. You don't seem to like when I'm around. Do I make you uncomfortable?"

There is no malice in his voice as he says those words. Only concern. And I try not to freeze again. What is it with this guy and my brain? I put on a little smile.

"No. It's fine. I'm just not used to talk to strangers. I'm Seungyoon. You're Minho, right?"

He nods then makes a gesture to sit down at my table when I hear voices. Jaebum and two other men, the guys from the pool, are walking in our direction.

"Hey my love," Jaebum says. "I met our room neighbours at the gym."

"Hi, I'm Woo Jiho. And this is Pyo Jihoon. I see you already met Minho!"

I nod, throwing a glance at the punk-rock tattooed boy who keeps it very quiet.

"Oh! You got some coffee!" Jaebum says, smiling. "That's so nice. Do you guys want coffee? We have some empty cups inside."

"Yeah, sure," says Jiho.

I volunteer to get the cups while everybody sits down. Jaebum serves the coffee, as Jiho takes place on a chair next to him, followed by Jihoon, while Minho sits in front of me.

"Jiho, Jihoon and Minho are here on vacation," says Jaebum. "Jiho told me they live in Seoul. Isn't there where you spent your childhood?"

That last sentence throws me off balance. Oh, no... I don't really want to talk about that. I take a deep breath. Everything will be fine. Surely Jaebum won't talk about something we used to argue about in front of strangers, right? I answer:

"Not exactly. I always lived alone with my mom. I grew up in Busan actually, not in Seoul, but when I was 6 years old, my mom had an opportunity to work in Vancouver, so she decided to permanently move to Canada. After that, we only went to Seoul in the summer or sometimes at Christmas to visit her friends that lived there. I stopped going when I was around 13 years old, so it's been a while since I've seen Seoul. Even longer since I've seen Busan."

"Wow. That's a story!" Says Jihoon, smiling. "And you never went back for all this time? Did you ever want to go back?"

I turn my head to look at Jaebum. I don't like where that conversation is going. But before I can even respond, Jaebum drops the bomb. 

"You are going back in January, are you not, love?"

My heart sinks. I try to keep my composure. Everything was going so well. Why did we have to talk about Seoul? Why is Jaebum rubbing salt in the wound?

"Yes... It's true. I'm going back in South Korea for a few days after New Year. But I haven't planned anything yet."

I hope my face doesn't show all the anger and the sadness boiling inside me. I get up, apologize and I go to lock myself in the bathroom. I can't believe Jaebum actually brought the subject up in front of total strangers, after months of denial.

I bought those tickets during a weekend in August when I felt extremely lonely. Jaebum was away partying with some friends, doing whatever. His father had died a couple of months before and Jaebum was in the worst part of his grieving. He took a short leave of his job, and he spent his days lying in bed and his nights partying with some friends I didn't really know. His schedule was unhealthy and it stressed me out to see him like that. Meanwhile, I continued working at the store. Even though we lived together, we would barely see each other. Sometimes, he would come by the venue at night while I was bartending. Some nights I was performing, and I would finish my set to find him drunk at the bar under Jinwoo's supervision. When he left with his friends for an entire week in August without telling me where they were going, I didn't even know when or even if he'd come back home. I cried a lot, called him, left him messages. I told myself it was normal, that he was grieving. I knew something was broken, but I couldn't admit it to myself. I just felt so alone. And then, after a couple of days had passed, I stopped wallowing and I decided to do something that did not include him. Something for me. And I bought tickets to Seoul. When Jaebum came back home, feeling depressed, angry and impatient, I didn't dare to talk to him about my plan. I waited a week before telling him I would go to South Korea for a few days on my own in January. I tried to explain to him that I wanted to go back to the place of my childhood memories, as a kind of pilgrimage. He was mad, but I couldn't care less. He just never talked about it again. Total denial. Up till now.

I splash my face with water, look at my reflection in the mirror, put on a fake smile, and walk outside to the boys chatting about something completely different: music and movies. In my absence, Minho took notice of my camera hanging on the table and started taking pictures with it. I usually don't like when people take my things, but somehow seeing him so serious while capturing Jihoon's profile, I can't help but smile.

"You like taking photos?" I ask him.

He smiles, shyly.

"I love that. It's a nice camera you got there."

"Thanks! I love it too."

I look at Jiho sitting next to me.

"So, you guys are taking vacations from work?"

"Yeah," says Jiho. "Minho, Jihoon and I studied together back then, before we became boring adults. And we finally got to spend a few days together for an old-school getaway."

As I am about to follow up with other questions, Jaebum suddenly asks the crowd:

"Are you guys hungry?"

"I'm starving," says Jihoon.

"We were planning on going for breakfast then chill on the beach. You guys want to join us?"

"Yeah, sure!" Says Jiho. "I'll get changed. We will meet you at the restaurant."

"Can you bring this camera with you today? I would really want to use it again... if you don't mind..."

I turn my head to Minho capturing the question mark on my face with the objective of my camera.

"Yeah, sure. We'll share it."

~ °°° ~

And that's how I spent the day with Jaebum, Jiho, Jihoon and Minho. My boyfriend got on well with the boys and I was relieved to see that. After an hour of joking and laughing with them, I start regretting the way I was rude to Minho in the morning. On the beach, I decide to bring back drinks to everybody, asking Minho to accompany me.

Looking at my feet, trying not to trip in the sand, I say to him:

"Hey, I know I haven't been the nicest person to you since we met, and I'm sorry. I just..."

"It's okay. I understand that. You don't know me."

"Thank you. But I’ll be friendlier now."

Minho smiles. We keep walking. There is a silence, and then he asks:

"Hey, I don't mean to pry, but do you need help planning your trip to South Korea?"

His question surprises me. He gave me the impression he wasn't even listening when the whole incident happened. I hesitate, still feeling very uneasy talking about the subject. 

"I still have a lot a time before I take that plane. That is if I don't change my mind about the trip anyway... I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Damn, it seems that's all I do when I talk to you, I'm so sorry. I just sense this trip means a lot to you and it can be an intimidating thing to plan... alone... I know Seoul very well. I can help you if you'd like."

I thought my heart would sink again. I thought I would be feeling sadness and anger, as usual when the subject is brought up. But instead, I felt strangely comforted by Minho's words.

Of course, in an ideal world, I would have planned this trip with Jaebum... But I did buy those tickets out of all the frustration built up against him. I excluded Jaebum from the project, trying to focus on myself, trying to reconnect with memories of my childhood... while sweeping broken pieces of my actual relationship under the rug, out of my sight.

I know Minho is a player. I'm not a fool. I know it would be a dangerous game to play if I accept his help. And, to be honest, I already feel guilty about flying off to Seoul in January. I feel like I cheated somehow on Jaebum as I bought those tickets. Planning this trip with the help of a stranger adds up to the guilt of excluding my boyfriend. But every time I think about talking to Jaebum about it, I feel so much rage. I prefer denial over that feeling. This probably makes me a bad person, but I do prefer keeping all the negative emotions aside instead of facing them. Maybe I'm afraid to realize that the broken pieces are too many and too big to fit under the rug.

I sense Minho caught a glimpse of the little storm in heaven between Jaebum and me. For all I know, he could use it to get close to me, I don't care. I do want to talk to someone about this trip without feeling anger or fear. It even got to the point that I do not want to talk about it with Jinwoo and Seunghoon back at home, because I know they want Jaebum and I to talk and mend things. And I can't find the courage do that yet... So, maybe talking to Minho is the best option I have right now... His offer to help does bring me a little spark of excitement, moving the focus away from what others think of my plan, and bringing the spotlight on what I really want to do.

We stop at the bar and I order drinks:

"Three Mai Tai, one gin & tonic for me, and... What do you want?"

I look at Minho, and the warmth of his smile stuns me.

"I'll also take a gin & tonic, please," he says, still looking at me instead of looking at the bartender.

I feel my cheeks burning a little. While we wait for the drinks, we keep it silent, searching for something to say. My right hand and his left hand are side by side on the counter. So close that I cannot help but to look at the small space between them, tore between the thought of removing my hand or closing the gap. My heart beats faster, but I try to hide it. It’s a relief when the bartender gives us the drinks, giving my hands a purpose.

Walking back to the spot where we left Jaebum, Jiho, and Jihoon, I take a deep breath and ask Minho:

"Were you serious about wanting to help me plan my trip? Because... I'm interested."

Minho grins.

"Yeah, sure. But in that case, can we be friends? Because I want to learn more about your story. You got me curious."

I feel my cheeks burning again, and not from the shining sun. I keep watching my steps in the sand.

"Yeah, sure."

The day went by smoothly. Minho and I talked a lot. It made me feel good. My anger slowly dissipated. I even started thinking about trying to include Jaebum a little bit more in my plans. Slowly. Talking to Minho helped me gain some small confidence about myself, and a little more strength to face my unresolved issues. I went swimming in the ocean with Jaebum, admiring the view, the blue sky, playing in the waves, laughing. Looking at my boyfriend, smiling at me in the middle of all this blue water, I remembered why I fell in love with him. Holding hands, we came back to the chairs, where Jiho took photos of a sleeping Minho with my camera. I decided it was a good idea to nap and I got myself comfortable in a long chair, closed my eyes and let myself be rocked by the sound of the waves and the soft breathing of my new friend.


	4. Leica

**{Minho}**

I sneak back into the room. It's almost 8AM and the boys are not here. I enter the bathroom and take a shower. Gosh, I needed that shower. I let the water wash the dried sweat off my body. I need to stop doing that. Sleeping around. Not even remembering the names and the faces of my night encounters. It's tiresome. Last night again, I was unable to sleep next to a snoring Jihoon, so I got up and went to the bar. The rest is kinda vague, but I do remember being invited by a lady in a very revealing dress to drink in her private room. Damn. I need to stop doing that. We are going back to Seoul tomorrow, and I really should try to have a real night of sleep tonight.

I get out of the shower and lay for a minute in the largest bed, looking at the ceiling. The fan blades rotate slowly, lulling my mind. I don't know what to make of Jiho's proposal. Yesterday's conversation clearly was one of the causes of my insomnia. I keep hesitating. Should I take the opportunity? I could maybe work a couple of months there, see how I feel and move on afterward if I don't like it... That would be the smartest move. But why am I so scared? Why would I be terrified of a steady job?

I sigh and get up. I need a cigarette to clear my mind. I open the door, light a cigarette. The grass between my toes tickles a little. I stretch my arms. Damn, that feels good. I sit on the grass. 

Hesitating like this is stupid. I should definitely accept the job offer.

Someone comes out of the room next door. Oh, that's awkward... It's the guy from the pool. The one Jiho and I saw with his boyfriend on the beach last night. He's there looking at me while sipping his coffee. I want to ignore him so much and continue smoking while I try to make sense of my thoughts. But this is too awkward. I can feel his eyes on me, and I need to get rid of this weird tension. I walk to him and address the issue right away:

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

To my surprise, he smiles at me. I was expecting him to run away or to tell me to piss off, but instead I got a smile. It was a polite smile, the kind you give to elderly people at the supermarket, but it still was the prettiest thing I've seen all morning.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I'm not used to talking to strangers. I'm Seungyoon. You're Minho, right?"

And, as I nod, I hear voices coming up this way. It's the boyfriend. Closely followed by Jiho (winking at me) and Jihoon (looking exhausted). Everybody introduces themselves and sits around the table. Seungyoon brings the coffee pot and some cups, and sits in front of me. He smiles at his boyfriend, Jaebum, and that smile, far from the one he gave me, makes his face radiate and his eyes glow. Yeah, I don't have the slightest chance here. The boyfriend is quite charming, Jiho is right about that. Leading the conversation, Jaebum looks in control, calm and confident. The guy has charisma for sure. And he looks back so lovingly at Seungyoon when he talks to him. 

I learn Seungyoon is from Busan, but went to live in Canada with his mom at a young age. When asked about if he wants to go back to South Korea one day, his expression changes as he gives a side look to his boyfriend. I can't really decipher what is going on here, nor the expression on his face, but the crease between his eyebrows reminds me of when I saw him by the pool. Jaebum then tells everyone Seungyoon is planning to go to Seoul in January, and things get weird. Seungyoon's face loses all colours as he mumbles something, gets up and leaves the table. I look at my friends. Jiho and Jihoon clearly felt the tension as well, but nobody says a thing. As Jiho changes the subject and starts talking about the last _Star Wars_ movie, I take the coffee mug in front of me and drink a big gulp of a somewhat cold coffee. That's when I see it. And, as I stare at the camera on the table, I am no longer aware of the discussion. I am taken by an eerie feeling. You know, the feeling you have when you see something so familiar in a totally different context? Uncanny. That camera... I know it too well.

I take advantage of a small silence in the discussion to point at the Leica on the table, addressing Jaebum. 

"Is that yours?"

"It's Seungyoon's," answers Jaebum. "I gave it to him on his birthday earlier this year."

I take the camera in my hands. The weight is the same. So are the brown finish and the silver case. My fingers place themselves like they should without any thoughts given.

"I had one exactly like that some time ago..."

I press my eye against the viewfinder. My fingers adjust the exposure like it's a second nature. And, as I press the shutter release button under my right index, like I used to do years ago, Seungyoon appears in the frame, looking at me. I was sure he would be mad at me for touching his things (something I learned from growing up with a younger sister). Instead, he looks intrigued. 

"Do you like taking pictures?"

I hear his question, and as I try to formulate a response, my mind is transported five years ago, in a small cafe in Paris. 

_She stands in front of me, wearing a blue dress. Her ash blond hair is cut in a short bob._

_"You like taking pictures?"_

_Her voice is soft, her accent barely noticeable, charming._

_She points at my camera on the table._

_"I see you quite often aux Jardins du Luxembourg."_

_"I like practicing there," I answer, shyly. "I can take close-ups of flowers as well as landscapes. And portraits of people wandering by."_

_"You study photography?"_

_"I'm majoring in visual arts. Studying photography is part of the curriculum. Are you a photographer?"_

_She sits down on the chair in front of me, running her fingers through her hair. I catch a glimpse of her perfume. She looks at me. Her irises are a light shade of blue, circled by a deep blue ring._

_"I am."_

_Her stare mesmerizes me. If only at that moment, I'd known what she would put me through..._

"Do you like taking pictures?"

I look at Seungyoon, then at the camera in my hand. 

"I do."

I am still lost in my thoughts when everybody agrees to spend the day together at the beach. 

"Can I keep it a little bit?" I ask Seungyoon, still holding the Leica in my hands.

"Sure, I'll bring it to lunch."

~ °°° ~

I go back inside our room while Jiho takes a shower. Jihoon sits on the bed.

"What do you think of them?" he asks me. 

"I don't know. They seem nice. I mean, it is kind of awkward that I hit on that guy yesterday, but he seems okay with it."

"Don't worry," replies Jihoon. "You're not the worst. Jiho's been kind of bold around that Jaebum guy. You should have seen him at the gym. Helping him adjust his position. Any excuse to touch his arms, his back. Gosh, Jiho doesn't know where to stop at being a jackass."

"Yeah, years haven't changed that. And they say I'm the player... I just hope Jaebum is a righteous guy because Jiho is trouble. And Seungyoon looks like a good guy. Would be a shame if something stupid happened."

"I did sense a weird vibe when we talked about Seoul, though. Have you sensed it too?"

"Yeah, I did. But you know what, Jihoon? I think it's none of our business. We'll spend some time with them today. And tomorrow we go back home, and that's it. I don't see why we should waste our time talking about the lives of strangers."

"Okay, okay. I got it. Gosh, you're cranky, bro. What's up with you?"

I sigh and sit on the other bed in front of Jihoon. I glance at the bathroom door, and I hear the shower still running.

"It's that stupid job offer that's been bugging me."

"Oh... Did Jiho put a lot of pressure on you?"

"I don't think he did. I just feel bad. I know that I should take the job..."

"It would be a smart move..."

"But, at the same time, I am scared out of my mind."

"Why?"

"I always say I want the freedom to choose my contracts, but to be fair, I think I'm more afraid of..."

"Jiho."

"Yeah... I don't want to change our friendship. I know I'm a completely different person professionally, and I don't want our friendship to be influenced by any patterns of power. I mean, he says we'll work together, but from what I understand he will be my boss. And that makes me uncomfortable."

"I understand your feeling. But, you know, I've worked with Jiho for several years before he left the company to start his own thing, and I can tell you that he is not the asshole we learned to love. He is a very professional person. Dedicated to his job and a very caring leader. I'm telling you: Jiho will not let your friendship suffer from your relation at work, and I think you should take the job. I think it could do you some good to work in a team."

"Yeah, you're probably right..."

The bathroom door opens and Jiho comes out. 

"Sorry Jihoon. I don't know if you wanted to take a shower, but I think I've used all the hot water in there."

Jihoon rolls his eyes. 

"Sure, hyung. I don't care. Get dressed and let's go eat."

~ °°° ~

When we arrive at the restaurant, I see Jaebum and Seungyoon softly talking; their fingers are intertwined on the tablecloth. We take place around the table. A server comes in, bringing tons of good food. Jiho starts the conversation while we eat.

"What do you do for a living, Jaebum?"

"I'm an architect. I work in a firm in Toronto. We specialize in urban design."

"Oh, that's nice. Have you been working there for long?"

"It's been almost five years now."

"Oh, great. Could you pass me the salt, please?"

Jaebum takes the salt shaker in front of him. Jiho extends his hand and closes his fingers on Jaebum's while taking the salt shaker. A slight touch, but a deliberate move. I take a glance at Seungyoon. He seems too absorbed by his plate to witness Jiho's move. 

"Thanks," says Jiho. "And you, Seungyoon, what do you do?"

The question makes him jump. He really doesn't seem to be in a good mood. 

"Oh, eum... I own a record store with a friend. We also have a small venue to host little shows some nights."

"Wow, that's great!"

"So I work in the store, but I'm also doing some management. And I often bartend during the shows."

"Yoon also sings and plays guitar there sometimes," adds Jaebum.

Jiho whistles.

"You are quite impressive, Seungyoon. I bet you're good! Is there something you can't do?"

Seungyoon lets out a shy laugh. I am genuinely intrigued by this Seungyoon. I feel that behind this polite façade is an artistic soul. I suddenly really want to hear his singing voice. And much more about him.

"And you Jiho," asks Jaebum. "What do you do for a living?"

"I founded a cultural magazine about a year ago. Before, I was working with Jihoon as a content producer for a big website. Right now, I have a team of 25 people working hard to put our magazine on the map. Twenty-six, if Minho accepts to work with me..."

Jiho throws a smile at me. I grin back at him.

"And what is it that you do, Minho?" Seungyoon asks, looking at me with his plump lips slightly parted. 

"He is the best illustrator in the business right now," exclaims Jiho. 

"You are wildly exaggerating, hyung," I reply. "There are far better competent people in the business than me. But, yes, I am a freelance illustrator and graphic designer."

"And I'm trying really hard to get him to join my team."

Jiho looks at me, and gives me a soft smile.

"But I won't press on it. I know you don't like when I talk about this, Minho. I'll talk about something else."

I smile back at him. Yeah, that's why I like him. Under all that bad boy behaviour, Jiho is a sweet guy.

~ °°° ~

The conversation continues all breakfast. When we all walk together to the beach afterwards, my stomach almost hurts from all the food. I feel Seungyoon's eyes a lot on me, and when he asks me to accompany him to get drinks, I don't know what to expect. 

"I know I haven't been the nicest person to you. And I'm sorry... I'll be friendlier."

I really don't know what to make of that. Is he flirting? I can't read him. We keep walking in the sand, and he goes silent. I feel bad. I feel bad because I know that something is not adding up in his perfect little couple. His reaction at the table this morning, his sudden escape, I've been like that before. And, as much as I want to stay true to what I told Jihoon earlier and keep out of a mess that isn't mine, I do want to know more about Seungyoon. He intrigues me. And I feel some of the pain he tries to hide. I want to help. 

"I don't mean to pry, but do you need help to plan your trip to Seoul?"

The crease between his eyebrows appears again, and he bits his lower lip. Damn, I did it again. He's going to run off. Why is it always happening? I'm quickly jabbering an apology:

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. It just seems to be very important for you, and it is not an easy thing to plan alone. I know Seoul very well. And I used to ride my bike from Seoul to Busan every spring when I was a teenager, just to take my mind off things after the long winter. I can help you... if you want..."

Seungyoon stays silent, and we finally reach the bar. I wish I could read his thoughts. Know more about what's bugging him, what's keeping him from opening up. While we wait, I take a moment to admire his side profile. His head is slightly titled. His jawline could probably cut my finger if I dared to touch it. His glasses hang on the tip of his nose. He is biting the side of his lower lip, looking at our hands on the counter. I can feel that tension again. His shirt has a couple of buttons undone, and I can see the smooth skin of his chest go up and down, following the rhythm of his heavy breathing. Gosh, he is gorgeous. I'd take his face in my hands and bite that plump lip myself. But thanks to the bartender bringing up our drinks, Seungyoon snaps out of his bubble. As do I.

On the way back, Seungyoon asks me:

"Do you still want to help me plan my trip?"

I grin. Okay, Seungyoon. I don't know what you have in mind. But I'll play. Because... why not?

"Sure," I answer. "But, in that case, we have to be friends. Because I really want to get to know you more."

His face turns a light shade of pink, and he smiles at me. But not a polite smile. Nor a shy one. I can swear, somehow, this is flirty smile.

"Yeah, sure. Let's do that."

~ °°° ~

After a few drinks, Jiho invites Jihoon and Jaebum to a game of water volleyball. I stay under the shades of the beach umbrella with Seungyoon, and we watch the boys run to the ocean. Seungyoon lends me his Leica, and I enjoy holding it in my hands. It makes me feel a little bit nostalgic, but I am also under the impression of rediscovering a long-lost friend. 

"You weren't there when I said that earlier, but I used to have the exact same camera some years ago."

I look at him through the viewfinder. He looks back at the lens, and my heart skips a beat. 

"What happened to it?"

"I pawned it."

His eyes open wide. I press the release shutter button.

"Stop capturing all my weird faces all the time," he says, laughing. 

Wow, that laugh. I'm dumbfounded. I want to make him laugh again and again. Just to hear the richness of his laughter and his deep baritone voice as much as possible. But the conversation takes a more serious turn when he asks:

"Why did you pawn it?"

"To give a ring to a girl."

"Did she take it?"

"Yes, but she ran away with it. And left me with an empty apartment, three-months due of rent, no job and almost no money."

Seungyoon's face is shocked. It's almost funny to see him react so strongly to this story. I rarely tell it to people. I usually keep this failure of my life to myself. It's weird to just openly talk about it to a guy I just met. But then again, he won't be in my life after tomorrow, and it makes me feel good to talk this freely about Louise and what happened in Paris.

"What did you do?"

"I phoned my parents. Told them I fucked up hard. They helped me get back in Seoul."

"Where were you?"

"I was in Paris. Just finished a major in visual arts and graphic design. I was starting my career as a painter, while helping my girlfriend with her photography projects. We had a fight, I went to sleep at a hotel. When I came back, the apartment was empty. The only thing that was left was my painting material, completely destroyed, and a big FUCK YOU written on the wallpaper."

"Shit, that's heavy. Did you get her to pay up for the repairs?"

"We were three months behind payments for the rent. I didn't know that. I used to give her my part of the rent, and she actually never paid the landlord. She just stole my money. I don't even know what she did with it. And rent is hell of expensive in Paris. We didn't have the best relationship at the end... so I was scared to talk to her. And I didn't know how to find her."

"Did you have friends in common? People who would have known her whereabouts, that could have helped you get your money back?"

"I did. But they were mostly on her side, telling me I mistreated her... I don't know what she told them. But all my friends in Paris turned their backs on me. I learned back in Seoul that she moved to Berlin."

"You must have felt so lost... I'm sorry..."

"It's okay now. It happened two years ago. I'm way better now. I still have some trust issues, but that's fine."

I laugh, but there is a sad smile on Seungyoon's lips.

"Don't we all?"

I follow his gaze to the ocean. Jaebum is laughing, an arm on Jiho's shoulder, trying to keep him from catching the ball Jihoon just thrown at him. 

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you plan to go alone to South Korea? Was it on a whim? Or is it a project that's been on your mind for a long time?"

"I would say a bit of both," replies Seungyoon, still keeping his eyes on the ocean. "I was always curious to know what happened to my mom in Busan for her to start a new life so far away, and never really come back to the place she spent the first thirty years of her life..."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"Yes, a couple of times. She told me that when my father left, she was alone to run my late grandparents' shop and she was running toward bankruptcy. A childhood friend of hers that was living in Vancouver offered her a job as a language teacher in a big corporation. My mom accepted the offer. She speaks Korean, Japanese, Mandarin and English. She studied to be an interpreter, but up till that moment she worked at the shop instead of pursuing her career."

"Do you know why?"

"She won't tell me, but I think it's because of me... She must have been pregnant around the time she finished studying, and I don't think businesses would give a job to a pregnant woman..."

"It was very courageous of her to move to Canada..."

"Yeah, she took a leap of faith I guess, trying to give me a better life. And it worked. The job was great. It gave her the experience she needed to take on other translating jobs. She worked hard for my sake. And I'll forever be thankful."

"She sounds amazing."

"She is. I hope I'll have the courage to chase my dreams just like her."

"What are your dreams?"

"I want to be a musician. That's what I studied for anyway. But that's an impossible career. I moved from Vancouver to Toronto to follow Jaebum who had a job opportunity. I finished my thesis remotely, and I kinda lost all the contacts I had in the local musical community. It's a good thing I kept in touch with Jinwoo who was living in Toronto. We were friends in college, and he had a plan to open a record store, joined to a venue. He proposed me to join him, as a co-owner. And I said yes. I loved the idea. And the dream of becoming a full-time musician just got a little lost. Nowadays, I just enjoy the slow nights when I perform at our venue."

Seungyoon leans towards me and takes the camera that was lying on my bare chest. His fingertips linger on my skin, and an electric current passes through my body in a flash. I feel an urge to grab his waist and lift him on my hips, to tear up his shirt and let my tongue run on the pearls of sweat on his abs. But I don't. He just looks at me, puzzled, as he leans back into his chair. Seungyoon points the camera at the other guys in the ocean. I close my eyes, trying to dispel the feeling. 

"I also bought the tickets because I was sad and angry at Jaebum."

I keep my eyes closed. Why the fuck would he say that now?

"So that's what's been bugging you all day... Let me guess; your boyfriend doesn't approve of this trip of yours?"

"I don't think he does."

"But you're going anyway?"

"I think so..."

I open my eyes and contemplate the faded colours of the sunshade over my head. 

"Ever thought of inviting him to go with you?"

"I don't think I want him to be there with me..."

"Why?"

I turn my head to look at Seungyoon. His eyes are closed, the camera now lying on his stomach. 

"I don't know... I think... I'm scared... of a lot of things in life..."

"Listen, I know that feeling. But if you keep putting your head in the sand, nothing will ever get done. And your problems won't disappear by magic. I've been there too."

"What should I do?" he whispers.

"Talk to him. Include him in your plans... I think that's what he wants too."

Wow... So much for not getting into things that are none of my business...

We stay silent for a moment. Then, Seungyoon gets up as Jiho, Jihoon and Jaebum come back. He turns to look at me and smiles.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks for the talk."


	5. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains explicit sex scenes.

**{Seungyoon}**

The sun begins to set on the horizon, and we decide to eat freshly caught lobsters in a restaurant near the beach. The wine is good and the lobsters quite scary in our plates. Minho and I can't stop laughing at Jihoon who is scared as hell of the pearly black eyes of the crustacean and its monstrous claws.

I have to admit, although it's delicious, eating lobster is tricky, and the act of breaking the shell of the claws, while looking at the soulless eyes of a once-living creature, is quite a violent gesture in itself. Nonetheless, I enjoy this chaotic meal a lot. After an hour of drinking and eating, Jaebum and Minho are clearly drunk; Jiho’s eyes are glistening, and Jihoon can’t stop smiling like a madman.

When we leave the restaurant, it's already nighttime. The conversation is light and funny. I really enjoy the company of our new friends. Everything feels natural, like if we knew each other for a long time. We decide to continue drinking wine on the beach. The full moon's glow sheds a blueish light on the waves and the white sand. We buy three bottles of wine on the way, and we find a nice spot to sit down, near a bonfire and people playing music. 

We drink directly from the bottles, passing them around between us. And thanks to the overflowing alcohol and Jihoon's incredible talent as a storyteller, I learn quite a lot about my friends' mischievous past. Jihoon has such an incredible way to tell stories, and he makes me laugh a lot. But what's funnier is Minho's offended expression every time his friend reveals any crunchy details of his past adventures. I can't get enough of this clueless look of his. Jihoon's stories are so vivid, I can very well imagine younger versions of those three men in front of me, recklessly painting the town red. It reminds me of my own teenage foolishness.

Every time I laugh, I can feel Minho's eyes on me. And each time our eyes meet, he turns his head back to look at whoever is talking, yet again I sense his eyes on me seconds later. I know there is a dangerous feeling building up inside of me. I search for Jaebum's hand on the sand next to me, and I intertwine my fingers with his, something I always do when I need to ground myself. He presses my fingers for a second then pulls his hand out of my grasp to grab the bottle Jiho is handling him. The sudden loss of contact makes me feel uneasy. I need to keep my hands and my mind busy.

I take a look at Minho drinking from his bottle and I suddenly feel very bold, gesturing him to give me the bottle. I can see his eyes glistening with lust when he sees me put my lips where his were seconds before. I take a big sip, my eyes not leaving his stare. My heartbeat fastens. Why am I doing this? My head is spinning. Jihoon, who was being very silent lately, tries to get up, stumbles and falls on the sand. Jiho and Jaebum help him get up.

"We'd better get him in bed," says Jiho, holding Jihoon by his right elbow.

"I'll help you," adds Jaebum, circling his arm around Jihoon's shoulders.

I look at all the junk we left on our spot. Minho is already picking up the empty bottles.

"We'll take care cleaning, and we'll catch up with you," I reply.

~ °°° ~

Minho and I clean up our mess in silence. Once it's finished, we slowly walk our way back to the rooms. Minho lights up a cigarette.

"Can I have one?" I ask.

"Sure," he says, giving me a stick and his lighter.

I inhale the smoke and my head spins a little.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Minho whispers. "Our plane is at noon."

"Oh. That's a shame."

I stop on the path and look at him.

"I was hoping you would be here all week. We barely spent time together. We didn't even talk about my trip..."

He chuckles.

"Yeah, I know. It's a shame. If you didn't treat me like a murderer on your first day here, maybe we would have spent more time talking about things."

"Yah!"

I give him a little push on the arm, but the contact of my skin on his skin gives me a jolt of electricity in the stomach. I shake my head, trying to erase the feeling. It's the second time this happens. This afternoon, under the sunshades, there was a moment my fingers touched his skin, and my mind went wild. And now, it's happening again. I hide my uneasiness behind a laugh.

"How could I know that you were this nice, huh? I didn't take a chance."

"I know. I know," he says, laughing.

"But I should’ve. So, no more conversations on the beach. That's sad. I was looking forward to it."

There is a silence. I look up at the stars. Maybe it is a good thing he's leaving so soon. I don't think I could be this friendly, standing next to him for a week with all these dangerous ideas taking form in my head.

"I could give you my number," he says softly. "I know we're going to be far, and texting would probably cost us a fortune, but we can at least set up a way to talk a little? So you don't get lost in Seoul all alone, unable to find your way like a lost puppy."

"You're mocking me!"

He laughs.

"Only partially. Give me your phone."

I take out my phone from my pocket, unlock it and give it to him.

"You got KakaoTalk in there?"

"No. I don't."

"Line?"

"No."

"IG?"

"Yes. I do have that in there."

"Okay, I'll subscribe you to my account."

He opens the app and types his ID in the search bar. The blue light of the screen illuminates his face, and I admire his gorgeous features. I finish smoking my cigarette, crushing it with the heel of my shoe. Minho gives me back the phone. He looks at me, his face now wearing a serious expression.

"Will you really get in touch with me? After tonight? I mean… I…"

"I will," I say.

I take back the phone, but I let my fingers linger on his. He squeezes them a little, not letting go of my hand.

"Why do I feel like this?" He asks, before looking away in the direction taken by the others.

"I have no idea, but…"

His eyes shift back to mine, and there’s something burning in them. I take a step forward, closing some of the space between us. My move seems to unsettle him.

"What are you doing, Seungyoon?" He whispers.

His eyes search for mine. He leans in to brush his fingers through my hair. The contact only lasts a second, but the air seems to thicken around us. I don’t want him to leave. I want to get closer and closer. Minho steps back. He turns around.

"We should get walking. They’ll be waiting."

"Okay."

I start walking again, slowly. I let my fingers brush Minho’s hand. Instead of taking a distance, he leans a little towards me, touching my fingers again. We both look straight ahead, trying to act normal.

"How long have you been with Jaebum? How did you two meet?"

My heart is exploding every time our fingers touch, and my head is spinning like crazy.

"We've known each other for a long time. It's been more than ten years now. We were best friends. We only began dating about five years ago."

"Oh, I see. Well, you seem to have a good relationship."

"Do we?"

I already regret those words the moment they came out of my mouth. It must be the wine. Minho stays silent for a moment.

"What do you mean? Aren't you happy... with him?"

"Well, it's been hard these last months. Jaebum lost his father, and he hasn't been the same ever since. I understand his grief and his depression. He's starting to be better now, but I doubt he'll ever be the same as the man I fell in love with."

There is a small silence, and I decide to express the thought that was running in my mind:

"How long did your relationship with the girl from Paris lasted?"

"About three years. Why?"

I take a deep breath.

"Did you see the relationship slowly come to an end, or did it happen all of a sudden?"

Minho shakes his head and stops again on the path. He turns to face me.

"You're scared," he says.

My mind races. All my doubts about Jaebum and I wash over me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I suddenly feel warmth and comfort.

"Your story is far from mine. Louise was a manipulative person. She lied to me for years. She used me. She was good at making me feel special, but at the same time, she was controlling my every move and making me feel small and in need of her approval. Jaebum isn't like that. I don't know him much, but I can see he cares a lot about you. I'm sure he'll come back to you."

"But does he love me still?" I whisper.

I immediately regret saying that, but Minho doesn't respond. I hope he didn't actually hear, even though I know he clearly did.

~ °°° ~

Jaebum and Jiho are coming out of the boys' shared room when we arrive.

"Were you lost?" Jiho asks, smirking at the both of us.

I freeze. Jaebum's eyes have an intense glow to them, but I can't tell if it's the long night of excess taking a toll on his mood, or if he thinks something happened. I can't decipher if he feels anger, jealousy, lust, or a mix of all those things. I look away from his gloomy stare. I can still feel Minho's touch from minutes earlier, and I feel the guilt wave submerge me. 

"We took our time to walk. Too much wine," says Minho, unaffected. "Where's Jihoon?"

"Wasted. He's already passed out on his bed. I guess we have to go to sleep too."

Jiho taps Jaebum on the shoulder, before winking at me.

"It was nice to meet you!"

And he disappears in the room next door.

"Bye Jaebum," said Minho, shaking his hand. "It's been a pleasure."

He turns to me and smiles. That smile burns through my heart.

"And bye chingu. Enjoy the rest of your vacations."

I give him a soft smile.

"Yeah, I will. Have a safe trip home."

~ °°° ~

Jaebum and I enter our room. I am tired, and my mind is full thoughts I don't have the strength to process. I wish I could simply sleep, but Jaebum has other ideas. As soon as the door is locked behind us, he puts his hands on my hips and pushes me until I feel my back against the wall. He leans on me, his chest pressed on mine and attacks my mouth with his. Surprised, I part my lips to let him in, kissing him back. His breath tastes like salt and wine, and it turns me on so much. His hands fumble on the buttons of my shirt, and, as I palm his erection through his jeans, he moans in my mouth, pushing me further into the wall. I hear a tearing sound, and some of the buttons of my shirt fall on the floor, as his lips leave my mouth to suck on the newly revealed skin at the base of my neck, his hands now sliding up from my hips and holding my upper body up against the wall. I feel his fingers roaming on the skin of my sides, his thumbs flickering my nipples. I unbuckle his pants and insert a hand in his underwear to grab his hard member. My other hand passes under the rim of his shirt, and presses on his lower back, pulling him on my own erection. The friction feels so good, I let my head tilt back as I moan loudly.

Closing my eyes, I feel being lifted and gently dropped on the bed, the body of my man hovering above me. Kisses on my neck soon become urgent as they descend on my chest. I can feel his mouth biting and sucking my nipples. I moan, my eyes still closed, enjoying every second of those sensations. He goes down on me, kissing his way on my stomach until he reaches my belt, and he slowly gets rid of my pants and my briefs. I can sense his fingers around my length, his tongue licking the tip before taking it whole in his warm mouth, as the wet fingers of his other hand tease my asshole. I let out a series of loud moans as he works on stretching me, a finger at the time, making me ready for him. His tongue pressing flat on the base of my erection soon makes me come on my stomach. My eyes are still closed when he slowly enters me, letting me adjust to the feeling. Feeling my body ignite, a sensation I've long forgotten, I totally lose it. He starts pumping, as the bed bumps loudly into the wall, again and again, and I am nothing more than a moaning mess. And as I come for the second time, he whispers in my ear, giving it a soft bite:

"Open your eyes. Look at me."

Startled by the voice, I open my eyes, and a wave of guilt engulfs me again as I look at Jaebum, coming hard into me.

That's when I realize I'm not sure thought about him this whole time, but rather I imagined the body of this man pleasuring me to be tanned and ink drawn.

That's when I realize maybe my heart and my mind went a little further than what I expected.

* * *

**{Minho}**

After saying goodnight to Seungyoon and Jaebum, Jiho and I get in our room. Jihoon is definitely passed out on his bed, snoring. I still vibrate to the tension between Seungyoon and me.

Jiho starts to unbutton his shirt while I open the fridge to take a bottle of beer.

"You want one?"

Jiho doesn't answer for a second, still getting undressed, looking at himself in the mirror.

"That Jaebum guy is really something, right?" He says.

"So, I guess you don't want one."

I close the door of the fridge. I uncap the beer and take a large sip.

"I guess. I'm not sure what to think of him."

"You really like Seungyoon though, don't you?"

I look at him. He's looking at me through his reflection in the mirror. I can't read his face, and that's a rare thing. Jiho is usually extremely transparent and honest. A little too honest sometimes. But there is something off in his tone right now. And, as I look at his face, I notice his swollen lips, his dishevelled hair. Something is not right. I slowly answer:

"I'm interested, I won't lie. But it's not going to happen."

He faintly smiles.

"You're probably right."

We hear a muffled moan, and something starts banging on the wall. Jiho's faint smile disappears, and I feel my body tense up at the sound. It's probably nothing; I try to tell myself. But the banging continues and the moans keep getting louder.

"It could have been a totally different night," he says, still looking at himself in the mirror.

A creeping thought makes its way in my mind. I gasp in horror.

"Jiho, don't tell me you..."

Jiho turns from his reflection, and looks at me with tired eyes.

"It's not what you think, Minho..."

"Shut up, hyung. I'm pretty sure it's exactly what I think. You really outdid yourself this time!"

"Okay, I tried to kiss him. And he kissed me back, but he broke off before it became anything else. That's all."

"You're an asshole, hyung. I thought you had at least an ounce of decency in you."

Jiho snaps. His eyes fill with anger. 

"And you think you're better than me? Playing the nice boy, gaining the trust of a guy while taking advantage of his ongoing issues? I may be an asshole, but you're no better, Song Minho." 

The moans on the other side of the wall intensify. I can't take it anymore. I slam my beer bottle on the table, and storm out of the room.

~ °°° ~

I walk a couple of minutes to clear my head when I stumble in a bar near the beach. I need a goddamn drink, or maybe just something to numb the pain and the anger after my argument with Jiho. I sit at the counter. My hands are shaking. The bartender comes up to me.

"Whisky, please. Straight."

He gives me a flirty smile, pouring up my drink.

"Rough night?"

"You could say that."

He leans on the counter, putting the glass in my hands, and he whispers in my ear.

"Well, I can keep you company, and you can tell me all about it. My shift ends in ten minutes."

I lean back and take a good look at the bartender. He has a pretty face. His flowing white shirt shows the tanned and glimmering skin of his chest. Why not? I smirk, giving him back a lusty stare.

"Yeah, you could probably help me clear my head."

"I'll be happy to help you."

He winks at me, as his colleague arrives to take over his shift. I move in the alley behind the bar to meet him. He immediately comes in closer, kissing me eagerly. My tongue dances with his, as I hold the side of his face and the back of his neck. His hands find their way under my shirt and, as they travel down my pants, I suddenly don't feel like it anymore. I take a step back; he looks at me puzzled.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to do this. I'm sorry. I'll leave."

My move seems to baffle him. He just stays there, muttering a barely audible "okay", as I leave him behind, taking the path to the beach.

It's almost dawn, and thoughts are running wild in my mind. I feel so many emotions at the same time; I can't focus. Am I sad? Ashamed? Angry? Hurt? Seungyoon's trembling lips come to my mind, and I can keep myself from imagining what it would have felt like to close the gap between us earlier tonight, to taste his full lips, to hear him moan under my touch. But those thoughts are followed by Jiho's enraged stare and his harsh words. Was I really taking advantage of Seungyoon's trust? My hands are shaking. I light up a cigarette and take a long drag out of it. Once it's finished, I light up another one. And another one. And another one. I'm still hell of confused when I see the orange glowing line at the horizon. Shit, it's already morning. I look at the sunrise.

I'm really glad we leave today. Otherwise, it would have been a shit show.

I lay on my back in the sand, and I pass out of weariness.

~ °°° ~

I wake up a few hours later to the sound of kids playing around and hungry seagulls. My body hurts so much. My phone makes a little noise. A text message from Jihoon.

_hey Minho, I packed your suitcase. We're at the hotel's restaurant. Come and join us. We leave for the airport in two hours._

I type a quick response as I get up.

_ok i'll be there in 5_

I give one last look at the ocean, and follow the same path I took yesterday. I receive another text.

_i'm so relieved you answered! Jiho's moody AF this morning and he didn't want to wait for you. My head is killing me. WTF happened last night?_

I sigh as I walk to the restaurant.

_we got high on hopes and we drank ourselves out of our minds_

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

The first rays of sunlight hit my face, through the shades of the window. I turn to my side, and I admire Jaebum sleeping next to me. I smile, tracing the line of his nose, my touch lingering on his soft lower lip. He opens an eye, circles me with his arms, and draws me in his embrace. His face nests in my neck, where he leaves a gentle kiss.

"I love you," he says.

My heart flusters. I kiss his hair, holding him closer.

"I love you too."

We stay cuddled like this for several long minutes. Even if I feel content, I can't help but think about last night. Jaebum and I were not very intimate anymore. The last time we made love was about two months ago, and I could tell that he wasn't into it. I've been kind of craving for some more meaningful physical interactions with him ever since. What happened between us yesterday was something new. It made me think of our first months together, when we couldn't keep our hands off our bodies, always trying to find a moment of peace to enjoy each other. And yet, last night's energy was different. There was something urgent in the way he touched me. He never was a possessive guy, but he clearly acted like one last night. I don't know if it was the anger, the pain, or the lust, but it felt like having a great fuck with some stranger. And as much as I want this morning softness to lull my mind, I can help but think about that odd feeling. The fact that I thought of someone else than Jaebum during sex doesn't help. I try to push the thought of Minho away. If this whole encounter made me learn anything is that I must focus on my relationship with Jaebum, try to salvage what is left, work with my boyfriend to try and build it back together.

Jaebum stretches his arms, lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on my lips.

"What are you thinking about?"

He looks at me, and passes his index on my forehead, between my eyebrows, smiling. Oh, I'm probably frowning again. I always do that when I worry about something, and Jaebum knows that very well. 

"I was thinking about yesterday."

"Oh..."

He takes a moment to caress my cheek. His eyes are sad.

"I'm sorry about my behaviour last night. I was incredibly drunk, and my mind was elsewhere. Did I hurt you?"

I smile.

"No, I'm fine. I enjoyed last night. But I think we got lost at some point."

"Yeah, I think we did."

He sits up, stretches again. I can see the marks my nails and my teeth left on his chest and on his biceps. We did get lost last night. He turns to look at me, and gently strokes my arm.

"You know, I talked a lot with Jiho. He helped me realize some things... about you and I..."

I frown, and look at him, slightly puzzled. He laughs and traces the crease on my forehead with the tip of his fingers. 

"Stop frowning like that. I mean that we discussed a lot about how I felt these past months. It helped me a lot to talk to someone I didn't really know. He was able to help me see things I may have missed in my relationship with you... Like the way I was being a jerk about your trip to South Korea."

I tense up hearing his words, scared it would stir another fight. But instead, Jaebum leans and kisses me.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk. I understand why this trip is important for you and how you felt this summer when I wasn't well..."

I feel the tears coming up. I try to keep calm, but my voice cracks.

"I felt so alone, Jaebum. When you left without telling me where or for how long you were leaving... My heart broke into a thousand pieces."

He hugs me tightly.

"Forgive me, my love. I am so sorry. Let's try to mend it together. Would you be okay with that?"

I laugh softly in his embrace.

"I would like that very much."

Jaebum kisses my head, and we both fall back into the sheets.

~ °°° ~

The rest of the week was very peaceful. I finished reading my book, took lots of pictures, and all there was left to do was thinking. My resolution to mend my couple was stronger than ever. Scrolling my Instagram feed on the beach a couple of days later, I stumble on a picture of the lobsters we ate that night, with Minho, Jiho and Jihoon. Minho posted it two days ago. I click on his profile, check his pictures. I laugh at some silly ones, but very quickly, I feel the guilt coming back. Even though I do miss Minho, I know my best option right now is to push him out of my head and move on with my life with Jaebum, taking the time it needed to be repaired.

So I click the 'Unfollow' button on his profile.

And I decide to stop thinking about him and concentrate on enjoying the rest of my vacation before going back to the cold autumn in Canada.


	6. Stuck in a plane between Jiho and Minho (Interlude n°1)

**{Jihoon}**

I don't believe it... Do they seriously think I don't know what's going on? If so, nothing has changed since we were kids. Jiho and Minho still fight over their own mistakes, out of their ego, leaving me in the middle, talking things out between them. Now, I'm stuck in a plane seat, 30 000 feet in the air, between an angry Jiho and a moody Minho, giving each other the silent treatment.

And I have the worst hangover. I still feel nauseous, and my head is killing me. How much did I fucking drink yesterday? Seriously, I just want to sleep. But I keep being disturbed by their frustrated sighs in stereo. I pull the hood of my sweater over my head, letting it fall over my eyes, and I finally doze off. When I wake up from the short nap, lunch is being served. I thought I wouldn't be able to ingest a single thing, but the smell emanating from the little cardboard box is like heaven to my nostrils. I guess the nap helped clear out nausea, because I devour my meal in seconds. Donkkaseu is really the remedy I needed to calm my upset stomach. Food does save lives. I look at the trays next to me. Neither Minho nor Jiho touched their food. I bump Jiho's shoulder.

"Hyung, you're not going to eat that?"

He grunts and pushes his plate towards me. I pick up the meat with my chopsticks to put it in my mouth. This is so good. I then turn to Minho, and I don't even have to ask; he takes his plate and puts it on my tray.

"Thanks, Minho!"

He doesn't answer. I finish eating everything. Still not a word from my friends. There is still 8 hours left until we land in Tokyo for our transit to Incheon. It's definitely going to be a long flight. I lean back in my seat, put on my earbuds and I doze off again. 

~ °°° ~

We arrive at Narita International Airport, and we make our way to the waiting area for transit flights. Minho is checking his phone every second; Jiho has his earphones on, and he looks outside the large bay window. None of them talked since we left the hotel, more than 10 hours ago.

_Attention passengers. The 5PM flight to Incheon is delayed. Please refer to an agent at the departure gate for more information._

You have to be kidding me. I look at the information board; our plane is delayed until 8PM. I can't continue to suffer this fucking mood for the 5 hours that separate me from the comfort of my apartment. I just can't. This calls for my special reconciliation skills. In this case, it should be called "Airport Emergency Therapy."

I kick Jiho's leg with my foot and push Minho's arm. They both look at me, Jiho lifts an earphone.

"What?" he says.

I take a deep breath.

"Okay, guys. What the fuck, now? Can you please stop being this angry? I can't breathe here. Let's sort it out."

"Forget it," Jiho replies, putting back his earphone on.

"I'll go get a coffee," says Minho, as he stands up.

"I'll go with you!"

First attempt was disastrous. Let's try a one-on-one talk then. Minho and I walk to a coffee counter in another section of the airport. Minho orders iced coffees for the both of us. While we wait, I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Come on. Talk to me. Tell me something."

Minho frowns, and he looks at the floor. I continue:

"You think I don't know what happened? I may have been drunk last night, but I saw the subtle moves, the innuendos. And I know for a fact they didn't just come from Jiho's side, nor yours. You keep fighting each other, but maybe you should try to hear out what you have to say."

"We fucked up yesterday, Jihoon. Jiho and I both crossed the line. I'm... I'm an asshole... Jiho's right. I did take advantage of Seungyoon's weakness."

We receive the iced coffees, and we continue walking in the long corridors of the airport.

"You did get very close to Seungyoon in 24 hours, that's true. But I don't think you took advantage. I think you both felt something, am I right?"

Minho nods.

"Tell me... What happened?"

"We talked a lot. I told him stories I usually keep to myself. I felt comfortable with him. There was a connection. But I could feel a sexual tension from the beginning, and I played along. I should've been more distant."

"Did you two... act on that tension?"

Minho's expression darkens.

"No. We didn't."

He pauses, and we sit on a bench. 

"When you passed out on the beach, do you remember being dragged to the room by Jiho and Jaebum?"

"Vaguely, but I do."

"Seungyoon and I stayed behind to clean our spot on the beach. On the way back, there was a moment I was certain he was going to kiss me. He was there, in front of me, waiting for me to make the final move. And I was a second away from crossing all the lines, and just fully surrender to this intense feeling that was eating me up. Only a second. But I backed off. But then..."

"You're angry because Jiho and Jaebum crossed that same line."

Minho looks at me, startled. 

"How..."

"I was very drunk, but I still heard them talk a bit after they dropped me on the bed. And there are some sounds you recognize without having to look..."

Minho's face twists in horror.

"Did they...?"

"They didn't get far. I heard them kiss; they bumped into a few pieces of furniture, but they broke it off quickly. That's actually only what I remember. I did really pass out not long after they left the room. I don't know if they went elsewhere, or..."

"No, they didn't. When Seungyoon and I came back, they were just leaving our room. Jaebum left with Seungyoon, and Jiho and I came back in the room... And, damn, you really were completely out when I saw you. You were snoring and drooling on your pillow."

He laughs. I chuckle, happy to see him smile.

"And you went in an argument with Jiho?"

"Yes..."

"Because?"

"Because I knew he did something a decent guy wouldn't have done."

"You're harsh, Minho. Did he tell you something?"

"Yes..."

"What did he tell you?"

"That he kissed Jaebum. And that Jaebum kissed him too, before stepping back."

"It could very well be what happened..."

"He told me I took advantage of Seungyoon... And I do think he's right..."

"You know... you said you talked a lot with Seungyoon, and that it made you closer really quickly? Well, Jiho did experience something similar with Jaebum. They talked a lot. When you were out chatting with your new friend, Jiho was also receiving a lot of confessions from Jaebum. Although he didn't talk much in return, Jiho truly listened. And I am telling you, Jaebum is a hell of a mess. But you know Jiho; always falling for the broken ones, trying to help them the best he can."

"Yeah... that's true."

"To be honest, I felt like the Supreme Third Wheel yesterday. I left them some space, as I did not really interfere in your conversations with Seungyoon... But I did watch you play that dangerous game... the four of you. Listen. I know Jiho's move on Jaebum was not a great one. But we were totally wasted. All of us. I think your experience with Seungyoon is not very different from Jiho's..."

"Jiho did look extremely sad last night, before we fought..."

"You should try to talk to him. Don't break a long-lasting friendship over people who crossed your path only for a day... Please..."

Minho sighs, gets up and throws his empty cup in a bin.

"You're right. I'll talk to him."

We walk back to the departure gate. In the distance, we see Jiho on the same seat where we left him. He's watching the planes taking off through the window. Minho walks towards him and sits next to him. He puts a hand on Jiho's knee. Jiho turns to look at him. I sit on another bench, far enough to give them space, but not too far so I can still hear them talk.

"Hyung. I'm sorry," Minho says. "I didn't mean what I said yesterday. You're a good guy. Yesterday was a hectic fuck up. But you're my friend, hyung. Always will be."

Jiho's lips twist in a bitter smile. He puts his hand on Minho's. 

"We really did like them, right?"

"Yeah. I think we did. Maybe a bit too much."

"Yeah... I'm sorry, Minho. I don't think you're an asshole... At least, not yesterday..."

Jiho laughs, and Minho pushes him away. Then he reaches out to shake Jiho's hand.

"Truce?"

Jiho shakes his hand.

"Truce."

_All passengers of the 8PM flight to Incheon, please present yourself at the departure gate for boarding._

We all get up. I'm relieved they made peace. As they are walking in front of me to join the line at the gate, I hear Jiho asking:

"So? What about that job offer?"

Minho laughs out loud, and circles Jiho's shoulders with his arm.

"Okay, hyung. Okay, I'll take the job."


	7. Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains explicit sex scenes.

**{Seungyoon}**

It's been raining for three days in Toronto. We're only a few days in November, but the trees have already lost all their leaves, and they stretch out their bare branches towards a sky as gray as the pavement. On the way to the shop, the icy wind slaps my face. I wish I could be elsewhere. But the warmth of the Hawaiian sun is now a distant memory. 

I park my motorcycle in front of the store. I see Jinwoo is already there, dusting the records placed in the storefront window. He smiles and waves at me. I enter the shop. Our shop. I'm glad to be here again. Vacations were fun, but this place is my comfort zone. 

"You're back!" Jinwoo says, coming in for a hug.

"Be careful, I'm drenched!"

He laughs, and ruffles my hair, shaking off the raindrops. I take off my leather jacket and hang it behind the counter.

"Vacations were nice?" He asks.

"It was very relaxing! Lots of sunshine. It was pretty too."

Jinwoo smiles, and continues dusting the shelves. I take a look at the registry book behind the counter.

"How was business last week?"

"More customers. I think people are starting to buy Christmas presents. I notice they don't buy things for themselves. They tend to ask you to help them find something that sounds like this artist or that music group, but they don't know that much about them."

"I see... November, and yet the jolly season already begins."

I pick up the broom and start sweeping the floor.

"How's Jaebum? Did everything go well?"

"Yeah. It did," I answer.

"Things were a little rocky between the two of you before you left... So I was wondering if everything was okay."

"It is, Jinwoo. We had to adjust during the first two days, but the rest of the week was perfect."

"Good to know."

We continue cleaning the shop, listening to the radio. I stop to look out the window. It's really dark outside and rain is pouring. I can see my reflection in the window pane; I look tired. 

"I have invited Jaebum to come with me to Seoul."

Jinwoo puts down his feather duster, and looks at me, dazed.

"You... what? When did you decide that? What made you change your mind?"

The thought of Minho comes to me in a flash. 

"I met someone special in Hawaii. We confided in each other a lot, and he told me it could help things out between Jaebum and me if I tried to include him more in my plans."

Jinwoo lets out a little laugh.

"That's what I've been telling you for the past four months and you've ignored me. Who is that great guy? Because I'm jealous now."

I laugh. 

"Just a guy I met. Nothing more."

There is a twinkle in Jinwoo's eyes. Oh, no... did I get too soft thinking about Minho? Did something show on my face?

"Okay then... Just a guy... Does he have a name?"

I feel my cheeks burning.

"Eum... It's Minho. Song Minho."

Saying his name feels weird in my mouth. 

"Okay. Well then, I have to step up my game. Because if this Song Minho did make you change your mind about bringing Jaebum with you to South Korea, I sense I will soon lose my place as your confidant number one!"

I smile and tap on his shoulder. 

"You don't have to worry, Jinwoo. You'll always be my favorite confidant."

~ °°° ~

It was a busy day. Lots of customers coming in and out, between the delivery boxes to unpack. When we closed the shop at 6PM, I was glad there wouldn't be any show that night at the venue because I was exhausted.

"You're heading back home?" Jinwoo asks, while putting on his coat. "Or do you want to take a beer at my place? Hoony's working from home these days, and he would be very glad to see you!"

I put on my jacket and my helmet.

"No, sorry. Jaebum should be home right now. He accepted a pretty good offer at the firm, but now he is working on a very big project and he has to be on-site very early in the morning. So I try to spend as much time as I can do with him."

"Oh! That's great news for him! And I understand. It's hard not having a similar schedule. I get it. Just so you know, I've received a lot of demands for office parties at the venue. Starting December 1st, we'll be very busy! It's really good for business, though! But I'm sorry... It probably won't help you manage your schedule to fit Jaebum's. I'll ask Hoon to help us out if he can!"

It is indeed great news for the business, but not so good news for my relationship with Jaebum. I say goodbye to Jinwoo and jump on my motorcycle. It stopped raining, but the wind blows even harder. I start the engine and storm off in the night. The streets go by as I ride my bike, and all I can think about is Jaebum. 

Jaebum and I came back from Hawaii three days ago. And, just as we landed, Jaebum received a call from his boss, offering him to work on this big project he's been dreaming of. He accepted immediately, and the next morning he was up at 4AM to go to work. And it's going to be like this until he finishes the job, which can take several weeks. Having to manage the venue and to bartend during those weeks will definitely have a toll on our interactions, as he will get up for work almost an hour after I'll get in bed some nights. I guess we're going to see each other sometimes for dinner, and spend time together during a couple of weekends... but that's all... Even if I try to remind myself that it's only for a month or two, I begin to sense this creeping fear of losing contact with him.

I arrive home to find Jaebum asleep on the sofa. He left me some dinner on the kitchen counter. I wake him up gently, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. He opens an eye, and I smile. His gaze is blurry, even a little lost, as he stretches his arms behind his head.

"You fell asleep?"

"Yes, I'm so tired. I have to get used to getting up so early in the morning... What time is it?"

"Around 7 o'clock?"

"Did you eat?"

"Jinwoo and I ordered take out about two hours ago. I'm not really hungry," I reply.

Jaebum gets up.

"I'm gonna go lie down in bed. Come with me."

He takes my hand, and I follow him in the bedroom. He undresses before me, revealing all the parts of him I know by heart. I get closer, lock my hands in his gorgeous thick hair, and I give a little bite to his lower lip, the tip of my tongue asking him to let me in. He closes his arms on me and answers my kiss with a deeper one. He slowly pushes me back against the frame of the bed, and, as I gently fall down on the mattress, I pull him with me. We roll in the sheets, and I'm on top of him, still dressed. I take off my shirt. His hands caress the skin of my sides and slide down to grab my ass. I lean in to kiss him, pushing my body onto his. He lets out a deep moan. I grab his hard member and begin to stroke it, pumping faster. I look at Jaebum's face twisted by pleasure, eyes shut. I unzip my pants, but before I can even take them off, Jaebum comes, spurting sperm all over his abdomen. I can see by the gaze of his eyes that he's going to fall asleep in seconds. I stop moving and gently wipe our mess. 

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so tired..."

"It's okay," I say, kissing his forehead. "Good night."

I draw the sheets over his body, as he rolls to the side and falls asleep instantly. I leave the bedroom, go to the bathroom, and finish jerking off by myself. Then, I go to the kitchen, put the leftover in the microwave, and eat it, standing up against the counter, staring into space. Hey, that's my life now.

~ °°° ~

Autumn in Toronto is cold and windy. I usually go to work in the icy rain when the sun is about to come up and I go back home when it is already dark. It's been more than a week since we came back from vacation, and I can count on one hand the times I talked to Jaebum or even saw him awake. I miss him a lot, but our encounters feel a little off. We feel almost obligated to have sex when we get to spend time together, but just like before, I don't feel it. And he doesn't seem to be into it either. It seems forced. We don't talk much either. I know we are both working very hard, but I feel we completely lost track of our plans made in Hawaii. 

Slowly, as days go by, Jaebum's mood deteriorates, making the cold streets of Toronto warmer than my own home. He just slowly stopped talking to me. On evenings I would be home with him, I would ask him how his day had been, and he would answer me with all these job-related specific terms, but never ask me back how my day was. With all the work load at the store, it took me a while to realize that he didn't even tell me that he loved me anymore.

It reminded me a lot of a story Jaebum told me once. A story about the time when his mom got sick with depression and wouldn't reciprocate when her husband told her that he loved her. That story always made me sad. And right now I'm anxious to see my boyfriend going down the same path. So I tried to find all the little things that would brighten his mood, building up my courage to speak to him about it.

When I get back home from work that day, I wouldn't have imagined that everything was about to go upside down in seconds. Jaebum is in the kitchen, fixing dinner. I hug him from behind, and whisper "I love you", my nose nuzzled in his nape. And he doesn't say it back. I sense his muscles tense. He turns around and looks at me, his eyes full of pain and sorrow.

"Do you love me?" I ask.

He doesn't respond. His eyes filling up with tears. I frown, concerned.

"My love, do you love me?" I repeat.

"… I... I don't know," he says.

And my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. Again. And I feel the pain starting to eat my body whole. My arms fall to my sides. I look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I... I don't know what I feel... You are very important to me, and I don't want to lose you. But I don't think I'm in love with you anymore... I think... I think we need to end this..."

I can't handle this conversation. Everything is screaming in my head.

"I need to get some air," I say, moving back to the entrance of the apartment.

I sit down on the bench to put back my boots. My whole body is shaking uncontrollably. I put on my jacket, take my keys and leave. I get on my bike, not giving a damn where I go, just keep on riding in the night. Tears freeze on my cheeks as I recall that night in July when Jaebum told me something similar.

_It was two months after his father's funeral. Jaebum and I had planned a little trip with Jinwoo and Hoony to Quebec City for the weekend. Saturday afternoon in the old city went well; we walked, shopped around and ate at a good restaurant. But, the hours passed, and I was not the only one to notice the change in Jaebum's mood, as he became irritable and angry at everything._

_Back at the hotel, while our two friends went to the swimming pool, Jaebum and I fought over some stupid thing. I actually can't even remember what it was about. When Jinwoo and Seunghoon came back, we hadn't settled our argument so we both decided to go talk outside of the hotel to get through the issue. And that's when Jaebum told me he wasn't attracted to me anymore. He wasn't sexually interested in me. And when I confronted him, asking if he was attracted to other people, he told me he just had zero sexual desires at all. Not just towards me, but in general. That he was feeling lost. Unable to decipher his own emotions. And as he was crying, I hugged him, told him everything was going to be okay. That I was there for him. That if he wanted some space, I would give him but that I couldn't leave him in that state._

_He finally stopped crying and proposed to have a drink. We went to the nearest gas station to buy beer. Which we did. But then Jaebum dropped the cans on the ground, and they exploded in the parking lot of the hotel. We both laughed and went back to the room where our friends were already sleeping. I got in bed, which was awfully uncomfortable, but I wasn't able to sleep that night._

_At 5AM, I got up, got dressed in silence and went down to the lobby where I asked the concierge for a coffee while I went outside to smoke. And I smoke half of my pack of cigarettes thinking about what Jaebum told me, his unhappiness, his pain, his discomfort, his anxieties. And then I wondered where my place was in all that. When I got back to the room three hours later, Jaebum was in the shower; Jinwoo and Seunghoon were packing their bags, and I still hadn't found my answer._

I actually stayed and helped Jaebum as much as I could. Even though he disappeared with his friends for a week after that argument, he did come back, and our life together went on. The trip to Hawaii a couple of months later was a success. Jaebum came back relaxed, he looked like he was in love again, it was great. But it didn't last. The wind is slapping my face right now, as the street lights pass me by at full speed. But I never thought he would break up. Shit! I realize I'm going extra fast, so I slow down and stop in a parking lot. I take out my phone, text Jinwoo, telling him what was going on. My hands are shaking as I look at the screen of my phone. No answer. I wait a couple of minutes. My teeth chatter. Still no answer. Fuck it. I make my way home again in the icy wind.

Jaebum is sitting in the sofa, crying. When he sees me, he looks like a wounded animal.

"I don't want to lose you," he says. "I just don't know what I need right now."

I hug him, and he cries in my arms. My voice cracks, but I manage to speak:

"Love, I don't like this. To be honest, I'm devastated. But I'm willing to go and find some place to move. Meanwhile, I'll sleep at Jinwoo’s. I'll leave, but I only have one condition: you need to go see a doctor for your depression. It is my sole condition. I'm extremely concerned for you..."

He looks at me.

"No! This is your house too! You are not going anywhere! I'll find a place. Stay here. Please."

I feel tears falling on my cheeks.

"How do you think this place makes me feel knowing you are not happy here?"

"I'll search for a new place. And in the meantime, I'll go to a friend's place. I'll find something."

"I don't want you to be alone, Jaebum. Promise me you'll get support."

I sob and hug him.

"I love you," I whisper.

He cries harder on my shoulder.

"Come on, Jaebum. It's gonna be okay. But please promise me you'll go talk to a professional about how you feel. Promise!"

"I promise," he finally says.

"Okay. Now, go to bed."

I get up and lift him on his feet. I lead him to the bed. I'm about to turn away and leave the room, but he doesn't let go of my hand.

"Stay here with me please," he manages to say between two sobs. "Please, I don't want to be alone."

I sigh and lay down next to Jaebum. I embrace him, and he cries himself to sleep in my arms.

~ °°° ~

I wake up the next day to an empty bed. Jaebum has already gone to work. I take a shower, get dressed, make myself a coffee, and I look at my phone. I got eight missed calls from Jinwoo. I text him quickly before leaving the apartment.

_On my way. Talk to you at the shop._

I was sure I would come back to an empty house that night, but I found Jaebum sleeping in our bed. The same thing happened all week: each night I came home to find Jaebum sleeping, and he would be gone when I wake up in the morning. Nothing changed. And I seriously thought he changed his mind. Friday morning, I find a note next to the coffee machine.

_We have dinner at my aunt's house tonight for a family gathering. I'd understand if you don't want to come with me. But if you want, here's the address. They're expecting us at 6PM._

I promised I would accompany him to that family gathering weeks ago. Since his father's passing, thirteen years after his mother's funeral, Jaebum had been very insecure in regard to his place in his family. I've always been there to help him cope with the long and terrible family dinners ever since we were just friends, way before we started dating. That's why, reading his note, I feel obligated to give him my support.

~ °°° ~

"You shouldn't go."

Hoon is cleaning glasses behind the counter. Jinwoo, Hoon and I are preparing the venue for a music performance later tonight. He continues:

"And I'm not telling this because I want to get out of working the night's shift. If Jaebum really did break up with you, you shouldn't go."

"I think Hoony's right, Yoon," Jinwoo says, calmly. "You don't have anything to do there."

I sigh. 

"I know he needs me there. He's struggling so much with the family stuff. I've been his moral support in those occasions since we first became friends ten years ago. And besides, nothing changed back home. We still sleep in the same bed; he hasn't left yet. I really do think he went back on his words. It happened before..."

"I don't think you should go," Jinwoo replies. "And I think that you should clarify things with him. Because it doesn't seem right for you to think that. And, frankly, I'll be honest and bold, but even if he changed his mind about breaking up, maybe you should think about doing it instead. Leave him. Break up with him. This relationship has become toxic, Seungyoon. It really is."

I clench my jaw and look at the floor. I know Jinwoo is not totally wrong, but I can't leave Jaebum like this. I need to help him. Maybe it's not over. I look at the clock on the wall. Jaebum's auntie's house is in the outskirts of town, so I have to go now if I don't want to be late.

"I'll go. And if anything happens, I'll come back here."

I leave the venue. There are already people waiting outside, smoking cigarettes and chatting. I hop on my bike and make my way to the suburbs.

~ °°° ~

When I get there, Jaebum is already in the living room, surrounded by his uncles, his aunts and his cousins, wearing a fake smile, and looking extremely uncomfortable. When he sees me, he gestures me to me closer, and grabs my arm. 

"Thank you for coming. I thought you wouldn't come," he whispers in my ear.

"It's fine. I know you don't like these family reunions," I whisper back.

Auntie Junghee, our host, walks up to us.

"What are you two lovebirds whispering about?"

I freeze, and I sense Jaebum tensing up, but I try not to show anything out of place. She greets me and leads us to the dinner table. The conversations are boring and shallow. Aunties and uncles keep asking me questions I've been answering for the past ten years. They don't even remember my name. It's always been like that. Jaebum and I were always feeling stranded during those reunions, but we would create a little bubble around us to shut out the unpleasant discussions, and that's how we used to survive these dreadful nights. But right now, everything just feels awkward. I want to talk to Jaebum. We haven't talked since the night he supposedly broke up with me. I don't know where to stand. I don't know how to act. We finish eating, and Jaebum gets up. 

"We have to go. We're sorry we can't stay longer. We both work very early in the morning."

Auntie Junghee escorts us at the door and bids us farewell. She hugs Jaebum.

"You look so much like your mother, Jaebum."

She puts a hand on his cheek. 

"Take care of yourself. You don't look very good. And you..."

She turns to me. 

"Take good care of him."

My heart tightens. I just nod. And we leave the house.

~ °°° ~

Outside, the suburban street is empty. The lamp posts shed a yellowish light on the well-mown lawns. 

"Do you need a ride home?" Jaebum asks.

"It's okay. I came with my bike."

Raindrops start pouring, taking us by surprise.

"I need to talk to you," he says. "Come, we'll talk in the car."

We run to the car. Jaebum fumbles in his pockets to find his keys. I'm already drenched when I sit on the passenger seat. Jaebum gets in too and closes the door. All we hear is the rainfall on the hood of the car and our short breaths. From the corner of my eye, I see things on the back seat. I turn to have a better look, and I gasp when I see Jaebum's suitcases and other boxes of stuff. Jaebum sighs.

"I found a new place. I'm moving out tonight."

I feel the tears on the brim of rushing out, but I try to contain them. 

"I almost believed the night you broke up with me was just an illusion..."

My head falls down on my chin. Droplets of water drip from my wet hair to my thighs.

"But now I know it's real."

Jaebum sobs. I try to find my composure and not succumb to the sadness. I look at Jaebum's profile. He looks devastated. I put my hand on his. 

"Hey..."

He turns his head.

"It's okay, Jaebum. I'm okay. Take care of yourself."

And I leave the car in the pouring freezing rain. I jump on my bike and ride, with the wind wiping the tears on my cheeks.


	8. Family Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains mentions of suicide.

**{Jaebum}**

I'm five years old. My smile is missing a tooth. My hair is cut in one of those awful bowl shapes. On each side of my little face, the comforting presence of parents. My father has a huge mustache and a pair of oversized rectangle glasses that would make any hipster jealous. My mom has this bright smile and little wrinkles in the corner of her twinkling eyes. The colors of the picture are faded, the corners are slightly torn. On the back, my mom's handwriting:

_Our family, 1999_

I keep this picture in my wallet since my mom's funeral thirteen years ago. Ever since my father passed away this summer, I can't help myself but look at this picture every day.

Wondering.

Mom's smile puzzles me. Was she already sick when this was taken? Was she unhappy? Did she already thought of ending her life? How was my father? Was he feeling powerless, not knowing how to help her?

I know for a fact he felt guilty of his repeated absences from home due to his work. He confided in me on his hospital bed one night in May. He had a cardiovascular event a few days before, and he was just out of surgery, still a little confused from the pain medication, so he talked a lot. About the past. About Mom.

My father was a truck driver. He used to leave for several days, making deliveries across the country. He would call every moment he could, just to hear our voices. I remember the emotion in my mother's voice when she would ask me to say a few words to my dad on the phone; her loving gaze when I would ramble about my toys or my friends. I remember my father's warm laugh on the other side of the line.

Sometimes when I was in bed, I could hear my mom, but I couldn't say if she was laughing or crying alone in the kitchen. Maybe she did both...

I wonder if I'm becoming like her... If this numbness inside me is the same has the one that made her suffer in silence... If I could also leave without a sound, one spring afternoon, in a drug-induced sleep.

I am numb. As much as I try to drown this feeling of emptiness with my work, it takes all the little energy I have, just to stay focus on my tasks. It's been two weeks since I came back to work after my vacations, and I feel my mind spiralling down. Each morning, I park my car at the end of the parking lot on the construction site, and I stay there for minutes, trying to find the right expression to wear to be able to face my colleagues. I am tired. I am so tired.

I lean my head back on the headrest and I look at our apartment building in front of me. At least, it's not raining today. It's windy, though. I can hear the wind whistling, shaking the windows of my old car. I carefully put back the family picture in my wallet. I find another picture there. A smaller one, a Polaroid taken years ago, in Vancouver. I'm swamped by a wave of sadness. It brings back so many wonderful memories. Why do I feel like crying?

That picture of Yoon and I was taken during the first moments of our relationship as an official couple. I finally had the courage to ask Yoon out, after years of being his friend. Yoon has always been there for me, since high school.

All my family was established in Toronto for many generations. But when my mom died, my dad and I moved away. Dad couldn't always be there for me since his work required a lot of travelling on the road, so he sent me to a boarding school in Vancouver. That's where I met Yoon for the first time. We were the only kids from a single-parent home, and word travels fast in high school. We used to hang out together, saying others didn't understood us. Yoon became my best friend, my confidant. We bonded really quickly. Our first year in high school, it was us against the world. Then, we eventually made other friends, but we were always inseparable.

After high school, we went to university in two totally different domains; Yoon in music, me in architectural design. We shared this creepy old cheap apartment not far from campus. Because of the shitty apartment and our not-so-friendly neighbours, Yoon had to practice his singing and his guitar skills in a park near the house. We used to spend all our time there; me studying for my classes, while listening to my best friend's powerful voice. And one night, it happened. I looked at Yoon, captivated by the intense look on his face, his eyes shut, singing his heart out, his long slim fingers strumming the cords of his guitar, and I understood Yoon meant more to me than anything else. He was my anchor, my home. I felt the urge to kiss him. I waited the end of his song. He looked at me and smiled. I leaned in and kissed him. He kissed me back, and it felt so right. "I was wondering when you'd do that", I remember him say. "I've been waiting for this for ages."

And from that moment on, we never left each other's sight. That small picture was taken the day Yoon had his first live performance on campus. We both look so happy on this picture. Yoon's face radiates of happiness. Mine too. I look at our faces and start sobbing. We're not the same anymore. I'm not the same person. I feel so lost now.

When I was offered a job in Toronto, I took it without thinking. Yoon accepted to follow me and finished his musical thesis remotely. I know it's the biggest sacrifice he made for me. Even if he finished his degree, Yoon left behind his dream of being a full-time musician. I think everything shifted at that moment. Being in Toronto made me relive some old memories I wasn't too fond of, and my mood did change. Before, I was a funny guy, or at least I think I was. Bright, funny, easily happy. Am I doing to Yoon the same thing my mother did to my father? Am I hurting him with my depressed feelings?

Looking at the picture, I feel numb. Do I still love him? Or do I only need his presence as a parapet, the only thing keeping me from falling off the bridge? The thought of that guy I met in Hawaii comes to my mind. That guy who kissed me. I did feel something at that moment, something that wasn't frozen in formaldehyde. I tried to use that spark to find that same passion with Yoon again. But it didn't last. Is it time to leave my boyfriend? My one and true friend? To try to find myself elsewhere?

I bend my head to rest my forehead on the wheel. I let the tears run down my cheeks for several minutes, holding the Polaroid between my fingers. The pain is slowly replaced by this numbing feeling. I take a deep breath, put the picture back in my wallet. I get out of the car, and I enter the apartment. I try to focus on fixing something to eat, while waiting for Seungyoon to come back. In my head, thoughts are just confusing. I can't get myself to tell him it's over. I don't know how to say it. I'm still lost when I hear the front door open.


	9. Whisky and Wine

**{Seungyoon}**

"I think I'll miss Rei, Bei and Haute more than anything when I'll get back home," I say.

It's Monday morning, and Jinwoo, Seunghoon and I are all in the kitchen eating breakfast. Tonight will be the first time I'll set foot in the apartment since Jaebum left. I spent the last ten days on the couch in Jinwoo's and Hoon's living room. It is a very comfortable couch (even though I try not to think about the things they might have done on it), but I decided it was time to face reality.

"That's nice for us, considering we're the ones who hosted you," Hoon replies, smirking in his coffee cup.

"Well, you're not the one cuddling me on the couch every night for the past week!" I say, laughing.

"It's true you're kind of the fourth pet in the house right now," Jinwoo retorts, while putting jam on his toast. "Getting fed, sleeping in all weekend, not cleaning your mess..."

"Hey! I washed dishes yesterday!"

It takes me a second to realize I am laughing out loud. It throws me a little off balance. It feels good. Right now, sitting at this kitchen table with my two close friends; I feel good. Jinwoo puts his hand on mine and smiles.

"Jokes aside, I'm glad to see you laugh, Yoonie."

It sure is a change of pace. The first nights I slept in the living room, I used to cry myself to sleep. Haute, Hoony's greyhound, would jump on the couch and lick my cheeks before lying close to me. Rei and Bei, Jinwoo's hairless cats and masters of the house, always joined the party. And soon enough the living room was filled with love, my tears stopped and I would fall asleep to the sound of soft purrs.

"You could adopt a dog you know," Hoon suggests, getting up to wash his mug.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that," I reply. 

"There is a shelter not so far from the store," says Jinwoo. "We could go and see if you fall in love with a little guy?"

I smile at Jinwoo. 

"I'll think about it. I may have to move out first. Pets are not allowed in our apartment complex. Maybe when I come back from Seoul? I just received my tickets by email this morning. In any case, I wouldn't want to adopt a dog just to leave him alone for a week. I would feel so bad..."

Jinwoo picks up our empty plates and drops them in the sink. 

"I get it. No rush then."

He taps on my shoulder.

"Let's go. We have to open the store. Today is a big day..."

Jinwoo grins looking at my puzzled face.

"It's December 1st, dummy. We have to put on the Christmas decorations!"

~ °°° ~

All the fun I had with Jinwoo, hanging tinsel and colored lights in the store, decorating the little Christmas tree in the storefront window, all that joyful energy disappears that night when I park my motorcycle next to the empty parking space where Jaebum's car used to be. The sky is dark, the wind whistles between the branches of the trees. We had our first snow of the year this afternoon, but now it's all turned to mud. The cold air bites my cheeks. I walk towards the building. As I turn the key in the lock and push the door of the apartment, the vacuum draws me in.

The floor creaks beneath my bare feet, as I take this strange walk in my own house. Jaebum's coats and shoes are missing. His laptop and printer are gone. Some books are missing from the shelves; some of the art hanging on the wall too, leaving blank spots here and there. He took the rug in the living room. We have had this rug since our apartment in Vancouver. In our first years together, we would often get wasted after shows, fall on the floor in our hurry to feel each other's body, and we would just make love on that fluffy rug. Through these last years, it's been getting old, damaged, but we liked it anyways. It reminded us of our precious younger years together. Now, I'll probably never see that old rug again.

Nothing seemed to have moved in the kitchen. Maybe he took a couple of plates, perhaps some utensils too. His favorite mug is not in the cupboard anymore. I keep investigating, my heart strangely numb. I feel I'm walking in slow motion. The bathroom is empty; its only inhabitants are now my lonely toothbrush (I should throw it away and get a new one anyway), a dusty bottle of shampoo, and a sad little bar of soap. I never realized how much the rooms were filled with his things and his presence before he left.

I arrive at the entrance of the bedroom. I'm not sure I can do this. I take a deep breath; my fingers crisp on the door knob as I enter slowly. The first thing I notice is that the bed is missing a pillow. His pillow. I take a step further, open the drawers, the wardrobe. His clothes are all gone. On my nightstand, he left a Polaroid picture. I feel suddenly extremely dizzy when I recognize our carefree smiles on the photography. He took the rug, but he left me this picture; the only memorabilia of our first moments of love. I let myself fall on the mattress, still wearing my winter coat. The sheets have this lingering smell of his. I roll over to his side of the bed, bury my face in the blanket, and let all the tears leave my body dry. 

~ °°° ~

Going back to the apartment the following days was less of a struggle. Of course, I tried to stay in the shop as much as possible, but Jinwoo made sure I didn't sleep in the backstore and I got home each night. To chase away the feeling of emptiness, I started moving furniture around the house. I even bought a new carpet for the living room. Following Hoony's advice, every day I changed a little something around the apartment, slowly making it mine again. It became my routine. I would usually come home from work, open a bottle of wine and a bag of chips, and move things around a bit. Then, I would sit on the couch, and skim through travel guides of South Korea, Seoul and Busan. My departure was in less than a month, and I had nothing planned yet. I would always finish the evening strumming my guitar. Quietly, but steadily, I began feeling better, getting a grip on all the things that used to elude me. 

But maybe today is a tad more difficult than the past days. This freezing Thursday night would have marked our couple's sixth anniversary. I spent the day reminiscing, feeling angry, sad and powerless. I guess that, when it comes to break-ups, we can't always have great days. After closing the store, I leave my bike in the backstore and I stop by the nearest bar. I don't want to be alone in the apartment yet. I need to be surrounded by people, to stun my feeling of loneliness. It's a Thursday night, so the place is full of people taking a drink after their day of work. I sit at the bar and gulp down a glass of whisky, something I rarely do. The alcohol burns my throat, and I wince. I stay a little while, ordering another glass. The second drink seems to numb the pain enough for me to call a taxi and get home safely. As soon as I enter the apartment, I kick off my boots and leave my wool coat on the kitchen counter. I take a bottle of red wine from the cellar, open it and drink directly from the bottle neck. In a flash, I remember the orange light of a bonfire and some mellow shadows dancing on the sharp lines of a face.

Minho.

I take another mouthful of wine.

Song Minho.

I walk to the bookshelf in the living room, and rummage through the books until I find the heavy envelope I'm looking for. I sit on the floor, my back against the couch, and put the wine bottle between my crossed legs. I open the envelope. It contains all the pictures I took with my Leica in Hawaii. I had the film developed once I came back in Toronto, but I never looked at the results, too busy with work and my personal life. 

The first photography on top of the pile is a picture of the hotel lobby, with all the detailed mosaics on the wall and the sunshine piercing through the palm trees on the left side of the frame. It's a gorgeous shot. The black and white film I chose for this trip is great. The definition and the grain of the picture are really something different. I put the photo on the floor before me, and drink more wine.

Here is another one with the view from our room I took on our first day there, when Jaebum was asleep. I sense a little pinch in my chest. I alleviate it with another big gulp of wine, and I put the picture next to the other one on the floor.

The next series of photos take me back to the special atmosphere of this particular day on the beach. There are a lot of pictures of the ocean; of Jihoon, Jiho and Jaebum fooling around. Some pictures of Minho too. And pictures of me. Lots of them. All taken by the same person.

I place them all in front of me, as I drink again. There is one photo in particular that draws me in; it's a picture taken by Minho, when we were talking under the sunshades on the beach. As much as I look at this portrait of me, I don't recognize myself. The Seungyoon I'm looking at is laughing. His eyes are shining. He is laid-back, relaxed. I take another picture of me taken by Minho. Again, this same intense, mischievous gaze. There is something in the eyes of that Seungyoon that I don't understand. I take another sip of wine. I lean back my head on the sofa and look at the ceiling, trying to recall the feelings I had that day. 

I did feel happy talking to him. I felt relieved. For a few hours, I had the impression of being someone else. Or was it because I was being myself? Free of my usual anxieties?

Although I never tried to contact him since that day, I can't lie: I thought about Minho several times during the last month. 

After another gulp of alcohol (I should really drink from a glass), I have this crazy idea. I pick up my phone and take a picture of one of the photos I took of Minho. The one where he calmly checks his own phone, lying on a beach chair. God, he's gorgeous. I don't know if it's the wine (damn, the bottle is almost empty), or if it's the fresh celibacy kicking in, but that picture turns me on so much. The smoothness of his skin. The shape of his lips. His slight frown as he looks at his phone. I feel something burning in my loins.

I open Instagram. What was his stupid username? I remember it was stupid, but I can't recall what it was exactly. Why did I click the 'Unfollow' button? I take one last sip from the bottle of wine.

The lobsters! I totally forgot he tagged me in that picture... I'm sure I can find it back.

I scroll through my settings, search my history, all the little corners of the app. My fingers and my mind are numb from the excess of alcohol (I clearly drank too much). And finally, after several minutes, I find it.

_@hugeboymino_

I knew it was a stupid nickname. I don't even take a moment to consider I'm actually sliding in his DMs.

_hey I just found this_

As soon as I send the picture in the chat, I suddenly feel very stupid. Why did I do that? Is this creepy? I can't help but to feel a little creepy. This is awkward. I almost hope he doesn't answer... 

I struggle with the thought of deleting everything for a second, but, in my intoxicated head, the need to smoke a cigarette is stronger than dealing with this. I get up, kick the empty bottle with my flabby feet. I put on a sweater and go out on the balcony to light a cigarette. It is gently snowing outside, and the night is pretty. The silence of the street calms me. I try to wrap my head around the last days. It's been weird, the apartment without Jaebum. Hoony suggested I moved things around the house; Jinwoo proposed I should just move out. I tried Seunghoon's method, but I think Jinwoo may have the better option. I should find a better place, more suited for a single person. Maybe I could find a place that accepts pets, so I'll be able to adopt a dog at the shelter. It would be nice, having a simple life, just a puppy and me, in a cozy home of our own. Some place not filled with sad memories. I take a long drag of my cigarette, and I look at the moon over my head. I wonder where's Jaebum right now... It would have been six years... Six years since our first kiss on a frozen bench in a deserted park. I remember how long I waited for that kiss to happen, not being brave enough to make the first move. How complete I felt when his tongue danced with mine, igniting our bodies, protecting us from the cold air. I wonder if he thinks about that too tonight... I wonder if he's okay... I know he still talks to Hoony, but none of my friends mention him. They say it's to ease the transition. And it's okay like that. For now. To be honest, if we rule out today, I felt more at peace these past days than I felt for years.

I finish smoking, and go back inside the kitchen. I take my phone on the table; my feet feel limp and my vision is blurry as I walk in my very cold and lonely bedroom. Getting under the covers, I check my phone one last time.

Nothing.

I let my head fall down on the pillow, and I pass out with the phone still in my hand.

~ °°° ~

When I wake up to the sound of my phone the next morning, my head is spinning, aching, and I curse my tendency to drink too much when I'm sad. I mumble something as I answer Jinwoo's call.

"Are you up? I just got a call from the delivery guy. He says the store isn't open yet. Did you forget you were supposed to open the shop without me this morning?"

I look at the clock and jump out of the bed.

"Shit! Sorry, Jinwoo! I totally forgot! I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

I'm about to hang up when Jinwoo says:

"And you are performing tonight! Don't forget your gear!"

Shit, shit, shit. I hang up and rush to my closet. I put on a pair of jeans and a wool shirt, run to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, put on a beanie on my head, and brush my teeth. Then, I grab my phone, my keys, my guitar case and my coat, hoping my wallet is somewhere in my pockets, and I storm out of the apartment. I hail a cab on the boulevard. Ten minutes later I arrive at the front door of the store, and I unlock it. The delivery guy drops a dozen crates in the middle of the shop. When he leaves, I take my first deep breath since I woke up. I take out my phone to tell Jinwoo everything is fine.

And that's when I see it.

The small (1) at the top of the IG app icon. Suddenly, I remember what I did last night and it makes me cringe.

But it seems to be too late to erase everything because... I've got a reply.

My heart beats so loudly in my ears as I click on the little pink square on the screen.

_hey you. missed you. what's up?_

My head spins. I honestly don't know how to react. I leave my phone on the counter, and I move behind the cashier to take off my coat and change my shoes.

_'missed you'_

Did he really write that? Who is that guy? The biggest flirt ever?

I am utterly troubled by my drunk text and the way Minho responded to it; but nonetheless I feel a tiny bit excited. I do want to pursue. Because, yes, we were flirty as hell in Hawaii, but we also built a meaningful bound. And right now, I think I need both. I look at the message again.

_'missed you'_

I feel heat building up to my cheeks, warming me all inside. It's been a while since someone told me that, though. But can you really be _missing_ someone you only had a few hours with?

Did I miss him too?

I don't think I allowed myself to miss him. I've always pushed thoughts of him in the back of my head, especially when I felt vulnerable, sad and lonely. I do remember him dearly, though. Walking at night with him, our fingers brushing against each other. His eyes when I caught him looking at me. His heart-warming smile. I did want to see him again, talk to him again. Instead, I chose to prioritize my relationship with Jaebum before some fling.

But now what?

I look at all the crates of records I have to enter in the informatics system and place on the shelves. I look at my phone again. I sigh. Okay, I'll play.

_Missed you too. If you ever wanna facetime, here's my ID._

I send the reply and put my phone back in my pocket as I open the first crate. I feel my phone buzzing.

_i'll call you later_

I smirk when I read the response. Well... That was quick. I crank up the volume of my phone, drop it on the counter and focus on my task.

A customer enters the store. I help him find the album he's looking for. His daughter loves old-school hardcore punk, and he feels a little lost. I suggest to him some Minor Threat and some Black Flag, telling him about the beginnings of hardcore punk and the importance of those groups in the development of this particular musical genre. I think it's always super important to tell people stories, stories of origins, of innovations, of failures and victories. Music is all about telling a story. And people don't always acknowledge that. I just hope that when this guy gives his teenage daughter Minor Threat's first EP, he'll tell her what I told him too.

Once the guy paid and left the shop, I start emptying the fourth crate and start placing some of the new records in the display window. It is snowing outside, and the sidewalk is covered with white fluffy snow. It's really starting to feel like Christmas. My phone rings and I jump. I forgot I cranked up the volume. I take my phone, but when I see Jaebum’s ID on the screen, I freeze.

I... I don't want to answer it.

I leave it to ring one more time, then I reject the call.

I feel all shaky. My hands feel clammy. There is this weird taste in my mouth. Why would he be calling out of the blue four weeks after breaking up? It's better not be what I think it is because I'm really not up to have a conversation about reconciliation right now... In fact, I'm not even sure I would be able to talk to him... about anything... I try to ground myself, reminding me it's okay to feel like that.

As I return to the shelves, my phone rings again. I pick it up, afraid to see Jaebum's number, when I realize it's a video call. From Minho. Shit. I look like shit. I run to the window to have a better lighting. I adjust my glasses on my nose and answer the call.

"Oh, you're blonde now," I say with a slightly disappointed tone, as I discover a damaged-haired Minho in the screen.

"Nice to see you again," he replies, laughing. "You look good too!"

I snort.

"I'm sorry! This is awkward. I was surprised, that's all."

It is actually quite refreshing to see him. And I am amazed by the way I feel at ease joking around with him.

"I am very happy to see you again," I say. "Can you move your phone to show me better the extent of the damage done to your poor hair?"

Minho laughs and makes a 180° around his head with his phone.

"It doesn't look that bad," he replies. "It's just some messed-up idea I had with Jiho last week. And believe me, it's far better now that I went to the salon to fix it. Because it was disastrous. Jiho is a terrible hairstylist when he's drunk."

I let out a laugh. I can't believe this guy.

"Who are you, dude? A fifteen-year-old rebel teenager?"

"I'm a cool kid. That's what I am. And look, I even got a piercing too," he says, showing his lower lip while making a weird face.

Despite his clownish expression, the piercing is a very sensual sight. I can't restrain myself from running the tip of my tongue on my dry lips.

"I like that. I think it's…"

"Sexy?"

"I was about to say, 'fierce'. But hey, it's sexy too."

I give him a little flirty smile. He chuckles.

"How are things in Canada? Missing Hawaii?"

I move the phone to show him the snow.

"It's cold. But it's pretty."

"It's freezing too in Seoul. And we don’t have snow here, you’re lucky. I miss Hawaii."

"Me too."

We stop talking for a minute. His eyes look away. He looks tired, his face skinnier than the last time I saw him.

"What time is it on your side of the planet?" I ask.

"Uumm... It's about two in the morning."

"And you're still up?"

"Yeah. I had work to finish. I'm in charge of the design team at KOZ Magazine now. We have a new issue coming on soon, so I have a lot to do."

"Oh! Congratulations! That's great! So, you took Jiho's offer! Are you happy?"

"Yeah, I think it's great. A lot of work, but the team is fantastic. I'm still a little insecure about my small leading part, but I think I manage."

"I’m sure you’re good."

Minho chuckles. I smile; he smiles back.

"You look tired too," he says. "Is everything okay?"

I let out a sigh.

"Life is a bit complicated right now. But I'm fine. Look, it's my record store."

I turn my phone and walk around the store.

"Oh, that's nice! But that means you're working now! Were you busy? Did I call at a bad time?"

"No, it's fine. It's a slow day..."

There is a moment of silence. Minho looks at me, biting his lower lip, playing a little with his piercing, and I am captivated by this subtle movement. He suddenly stops, then awkwardly asks:

"So... Why did you contact me? Why now?"

I stutter, my brain trying to find a decent response quickly.

But, as I am about to answer, the door opens, and I turn to see a tall figure draped in a long winter coat standing in the doorway.

It's Jaebum.


	10. Through the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains mentions of suicidal thoughts.

**{Jaebum}**

My midnight walk tonight brought me to the King's Mill Park area. The velvety blue sky stretches above my head. Snowflakes are slowly escaping from the few clouds that let a clear moon shine through. I'm leaning on the edge of the fence. At my feet, the Humber River flows quietly. I contemplate the reflection of the shadows of the sleeping trees and the moonlight. 

The events of the day keep playing over and over in my head, but for the first time in ages, I feel like I've freed myself from a great burden on my shoulders. But I didn't do things in the right order. I should have sought professional help long before I left Yoon. That's what I had in mind in Hawaii anyways. But, instead, I ended up losing myself in sadness and breaking the heart of a loved one.

_"Tell me about your day, Jaebum."_

_The doctor's head is slightly bent to the side. A strand of hair escaped her ponytail and it brushes her shoulder. Her eyes are focused, her smile is polite and warm, but, again as the weeks before, I can tell I'm probably one of her last patients of the day._

_"I woke up tired. It took me all my might to move out of the bed."_

_I wince and look at my feet. My palms are sweating. I don't like talking about me. I look up. With a movement of her hand, she encourages me to continue._

_"While making coffee, I broke my favorite mug. I cried for two hours on the kitchen floor. It was a gift from Seungyoon. I wasn't able to throw it out; the pieces are still in the sink."_

_Talking about it triggers a deep pain in my chest._

_"I struggled with the idea of calling in sick. But my boss called me first. Told me I had an hour to get to the office, otherwise he was cutting me out. So I got dressed, I went to my car. On the road, I was tempted to just turn the wheel and fall off the overpass."_

_I take a short pause and sigh._

_"But I didn't. Obviously... I arrived at the office, wore my usual face, listened to the boss talking his shit, and I felt miserable..."_

_I feel the numbness taking over me again._

_"Because I neglected everything I held precious, for that stupid job."_

Yoon.

My dad.

The life I could've had.

I wish I could turn back time and start over in Vancouver. Coming to Toronto five years ago was a mistake. If I stayed in Vancouver, I would've spent more time with my dad. When he got his first stroke, I went back there. I made plans to get him to come with me to Toronto, but he died of a second stroke within a week.

And I regret not having spent the time I wish I had with him. I made him suffer by my absence. Just like I made Yoon suffer with my crippling guilt. I wasted everything that has been good in my life. All because of a job I wanted.

I wanted to make my father proud.

I wanted to provide a good life for Yoon and me.

It's all gone now.

I sense my eyes fill with tears again. Regrets. My therapist told me they were the most dangerous of feelings, locking me in a vicious cycle of pain and self-hate. She told me I should focus on what can be done, instead of languishing on things that can't be repaired or moments that can't be brought back. She told me to resist the wave and not let myself be washed over by dark ideas.

_"You told me about the overpass... Did you have other suicidal thoughts this week?"_

_"I did. But they were faint. Sometimes, it just makes me calmer to think about stopping all of this. Everything."_

_"You can achieve to find peace elsewhere, Jaebum. Do you exercise?"_

_"I try to go to the gym every day. But I don't always have the strength to move from the apartment."_

_"What do you do when you feel bad?"_

_"I run."_

_"Does it help?"_

_"It does. After a couple of minutes, I stop thinking about the pain."_

_She takes notes in her journal._

_"Have you been drinking? Smoking? Using drugs?"_

_"No. I don't smoke nor do I use drugs. And I stopped drinking a month ago."_

_"Why did you stop? Do you think you had a drinking problem?"_

_"I think I do. I thought about this a lot these past weeks. I used to drink uncontrollably, to the brink of not being able to speak or move. I was such a jerk to Yoon when I was drunk. I hurt him a lot. He doesn't say it. But I know I did. All the times he was there for me. He wouldn't leave me. He would always help me, drag me home, put up with my raving... Nothing I could do would chase him away..."_

_"Let's talk about this statement for a minute. Your breakup with Seungyoon is fresh. When you came to see me the first time, four weeks ago, you were still living with him. Since then, you told me you moved out. You told me multiple times that you didn't want to make Seungyoon suffer the way your mother made your father suffer. During those past months after your father's passing, do you think you were trying to drive Seungyoon away?"_

I keep reminiscing those words. After giving it much thought, I do think that, unconsciously, I was trying to push Yoon away. To force him to realize how much I was in pain. To scare him off. To hurt him a little, just enough, so that he would leave before I hurt him too much. I had underestimated his love, his affection and his perseverance. I ended up destroying, not only our relationship, but also his self-confidence. I'm an asshole. I lost myself in self-loathing and in my work, and I forgot who I was sharing my life with; my one and only best friend, the man I fell deeply in love with, my strength and my home. I was so blinded, I thought he was the burden in my sad life, the thing that made me feel bad about myself. I felt all those awful things, when in fact, I was drowning, and he was the only one willing to be my lifeline. I was a fool. 

Today, I left my job. And, as I was leaving the office with my box of personal items, I felt relief. I was able to breathe deeply. 

Today, I decided I was going back to Vancouver to start anew.

_"You don't open easily to others, am I right, Jaebum?"_

_"I don't like talking about what I feel."_

_"I understand. Do you feel sometimes you don't have control on the extent of your emotions?"_

_"I do."_

_"Do you tend to direct your anger at yourself?"_

_"I do."_

The moonlight plays on the ripples of the river. A snowflake falls on my hand and it doesn't melt right away. I can see all its fine lines, its arches, the structure that makes it unique. I touch it with the tip of my finger. It disappears instantly. I look up to the dark blue sky. Today would have been our six-year anniversary together. And I miss the Seungyoon I fell in love with, but I miss the Jaebum I was then even more. I should try to call Yoon tomorrow, to see how he's been, to tell him I'm leaving Toronto. I take a deep breath, exhale all the pent-up emotions stuck in my chest, and start walking again back to my apartment. 

~ °°° ~

When I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember where I am. Even after some weeks sleeping here, I haven't been accustomed to the strange setting. This apartment still doesn't feel familiar, and I won't stay long enough to call it home. 

In a hurry to leave my old apartment, I found a cheap one-room studio in a slightly poorer neighbourhood. The place was already vacant, the rent was low, and it came with the basic appliances. I signed the lease for a month without giving much thought about the state of the apartment. I bought a sofa bed, a small bookshelf and a coffee table online and had it delivered. Even with just this little furniture, the place feels very small; there are only three steps to take from the sofa to get to the refrigerator, and five steps from the refrigerator to get to the bathroom. The apartment is even too small for the rug I took with me; I just left it in the wardrobe next to the bathroom.

After getting out of the shower, I make myself a coffee. There are still some small shards of my broken mug in the sink. I run the water to wash them away. I lean back against the counter to drink my first sip of black coffee. It's almost noon. Should I call him? I look at the small window in front of me. The view is blocked by the brick wall of the adjacent building. I take my phone, hesitate, then press 1 on the speed dial. 

It rings three times, then it stops. My heart sinks.

I try to finish my coffee, but I don't feel like drinking it anymore. I leave the mug on the counter. I hesitate again, but I get dressed, put on my winter coat and leave the apartment. I take my car and drive until I see Yoon's record store in a distance. I park the car and walk up there. When I arrive at the front, I see his side profile through the storefront window. He's smiling at something in his hands. Is it his phone? I can't see well because of the sunlight's reflection on the window pane. But I hear his laugh burst through the walls. He looks so happy. I'm not sure if I want to enter anymore. Who is he talking to? Is it Jinwoo? I keep looking at him, and I can see fragments of the old Yoon I knew on the other side of the glass. I take a deep breath and pull the door to enter. Seungyoon turns around to welcome me, but his face loses all colors and his charming smile disappears as soon as he recognizes me. 

Looking at me with a puzzled gaze, he ends his call and puts his phone back in his pocket. He frowns, this serious frown I've seen him wear a thousand times when he's upset. I regret coming to see him. I don't know what to say anymore. Seeing him glaring at me just throws back in my face all the things I did to him. The lovely image of a carefree, happy Yoon doesn't exist anymore. Before me is the stare of my disgruntled ex-boyfriend. I take off my hat and scrunch it in my hands. I can't move farther. I don't even know what to say. Yoon stays exactly where he was when I entered. We must look like two statues in a museum. I can feel he's struggling to find something to say. I find the courage to speak up.

"How are you?"

He shifts his gaze to his shoes, then to a vague point somewhere over my right shoulder, not making eye contact.

"I'm okay."

He seems to hesitate. I see his hands trembling.

"Why are you here, Jaebum?"

My throat tightens.

"I thought a lot these last days. I started to see a therapist. Helped me to process things lately."

Yoon doesn't move. He's avoiding my gaze. I continue, almost whispering:

"I left my job. And I'm moving back to Vancouver. Before I leave, I wanted to know how you've been. And to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I put you through all of this. I should have called you instead, but I needed to tell you before I leave."

My voice cracks. I pause. And then he speaks, and I regret even setting foot in this store. The anger and the coldness in his tone pierce my heart.

"You could have just left a voicemail."

I feel my eyes swell up with tears. This is stupid. Why did I come here?

"I understand what you are saying, Jaebum. But I don't want to talk right now. This is hurting me. A lot. Give my space. Give me time. And one day, we may be able to talk again. But right now, I don't want to see you. Please leave."

I try to sketch a little smile as tears fall from my eyes. I wipe them off with the back of my hand. I nod.

"Okay then."

I start moving again. I feel like a robot; my arms and my legs are not functioning right. As I push the door, I hear Yoon's voice behind me.

"Good luck in Vancouver, Jaebum. Take care of yourself."


	11. A Warm Feeling

**{Seungyoon}**

Once the door closes on his back, I finally find the strength to move. I am nauseous, my arms seem to be made of stone, but my legs feel like jelly. I rush to the bathroom to throw up.

This was too much.

It took all my will to get through this conversation without caving in. After a month of absence, after I tried to erase what was left of his presence in my everyday life, seeing him like that, all too skinny with his pale sunken cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes, made me so sad. Some small part of me wanted to hold him tight in my arms, and tell him everything would be fine. The rest of me, screaming in my head, wanted to run far away, or to make him disappear forever.

I throw up again.

When the heave calms down, I stay a couple of minutes, my back against the bathroom door, just waiting for my head to stop spinning and the pain in my chest to dissipate. I get up to wash my face, and I hear the chimes of the front door.

I come back in the store to find Jinwoo looking at me with an inquisitive gaze.

"You look like you got run down by a truck."

"More like a garbage truck."

He laughs a bit and comes up to me.

"What happened?"

"Jaebum came by..."

And I start crying. All my withheld emotions escape my breath as Jinwoo embraces me. I keep crying on his shoulder and he tightens his hug, gently patting my back. I sob harder. His hug is so comforting; it reminds me how much I miss this kind of physical contact. When Jinwoo pulls back, I wish it would have lasted a little longer.

I chuckle, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my sweater.

"And I'm so hungover."

Jinwoo smiles, and helps me dry my face with the sleeve of his coat.

"You do smell like a hungover guy. What did he want?" Jinwoo asks, holding my shoulders.

"He wanted to say goodbye. He's going back to Vancouver."

"That stupid boy..."

Jinwoo hisses between his teeth.

"Why did he come here? He didn't have to put you through that..."

"It's not easy for him," I reply.

"It's not easy for you either."

"It's not fair to compare. He's sick."

"Stop it. You need to take care of yourself too."

My phone rings again. I just give it to Jinwoo without looking. 

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Keep it."

Jinwoo takes my phone, looks at it, intrigued. He shows me the screen.

"Who's that?"

I look up. Video call. Shit. Minho. I hung up on him when Jaebum came in the store. I lean forward to take the phone from Jinwoo's hand, but he just smirks and steps back, keeping the phone out of reach.

"For someone who doesn't want to talk, you seem extremely eager to speak to this..."

He reads the ID on the screen.

"Minho..."

Jinwoo's eyes open wide. He laughs.

"That Minho?"

I take advantage of his amusement to tackle him against the counter and get a grip on the phone. I look at him with pleading eyes as I go outside. "I need to take this call," I hush.

"You sneaky bastard," he mutters while I grab my coat and answer the call. "Yes sure, but be there in thirty minutes max. I need to start setting up the venue."

I push the door. The cold air of the street ruffles my hair.

"Minho! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hang up on you."

Sitting on the bench on the sidewalk in front of the record store, I look once again at Minho's face.

"Still not asleep?" I ask.

"I couldn't."

Minho looks like he’s lying down. I can see some of his tattoos as his robe falls open on his chest. The room around him is pitch-dark. Damn, he looks so tired.

"I couldn't sleep. I wondered if you were okay. Are you? Did... did you cry?"

I gently tap my eyelids with the tip of my fingers, trying to calm the puffiness.

"It's nothing. Something came up. I'm so sorry."

I smile shyly.

"Are you at your place?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Yeah. I went home to sleep a little before going back to the office today."

I hear meowing. A big orange cat comes in front of the camera, totally blocking Minho's face.

"Oh. This is Johnny. Johnny, say hi..."

Johnny goes away.

"She doesn't really care, I think. She just got off my bed."

"Johnny's a girl?"

"Yeah, she's my stubborn little girl. It's so nice to come back home to someone, even if it's a moody cat. The house feels less empty."

My heart sinks. 

"I know too well what you mean..."

The words just flew out of my mouth and I regret saying them out loud.

"What... do you mean?" He asks, hesitating. "Don’t you... live with your boyfriend?"

"Umm... It's kind of complicated these days."

"Oh," Minho replies, looking away from the screen.

It looks like he is thinking as he is again playing with the lip piercing. He looks back at me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you really want to hear me talk about it?"

There is a short moment of silence. I look away from the screen.

"I want what you want," Minho answers.

Again silence. Snow starts falling on my phone.

"It's snowing. I can't see you. Can we switch off the video call and just talk on the phone?" I ask.

"Ummm... Okay. I kinda like seeing you, but okay."

I think I'm blushing, as I turn off the camera. The phone glued to my ear, I hear him breathe. And it makes me feel warm inside. I stay silent, enjoying this soft sound and the idea of proximity it brings me.

"You there?" I hear him say.

In a single breath, I let it out:

"Jaebum left the apartment a month ago. He... he left me."

Minho stays silent, I only hear his light breathing.

"He left his job too, and he's leaving Toronto."

"And how do you feel?" Minho whispers.

"Lost. Hurt. Empty. Not only did I lose my boyfriend, I also lost my best friend."

"It's normal to feel lost. But you have you take care of yourself. If you're hurt, don't keep it in. Take care of yourself. You're the only one who can really do that."

"You're right. Thank you."

There is a silence again.

"You must be tired," I say. "Please sleep. And be assured that I'm okay."

"Okay."

"I…"

It’s my turn to hesitate.

"I liked talking to you today… Seeing you and hearing your voice made me happy… I’d like it if we could do that more often…"

I hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. I hasten to add:

"I promise I’ll talk to you soon! I won’t wait two whole months again!"

"I won’t let you," he whispers. "I… I really missed you."

I stay still, silent. His words running down my spin make me feel all sorts of things. His breath seems to slow down. He’s the first one to break the silence.

"I'll talk to you soon. Take care."

"Yes, you too."

And I hang up. Turning my head to the store, I see Jinwoo rearranging records in the window. I realize how lucky I am to have such good friends by my side. Minho's words linger in my mind.

_Take care of yourself. You're the only one who can really do that._

~ °°° ~

I go back inside, hang my coat and I get behind the counter.

"Did you have some customers today?" asks Jinwoo. "Like _real_ customers, not some gloomy ex-boyfriends?"

"Only one, that's kinda sad. But, then again, it's a slow snowy day."

"Do you want to close the shop and help me set up the venue? We're expecting a lot of people tonight."

"Yeah, sure."

I lock the front door, putting the _Closed_ sign in the window. Then I go back to the cashier, get all the papers in order and follow Jinwoo in the next room. I start cleaning the tables while Jinwoo places the chairs.

"So... Let's get right into it... Do you often talk to handsome guys over video calls?"

I stop my movement and glance at Jinwoo.

"It was the first time we talked since Hawaii."

Jinwoo stops too.

"You look confused," he says. "I was only joking..."

"I am confused."

"Why?"

"Because I think I like him... But everything is so confusing right now. I don't want to make it more complicated than it already is."

"I know what you think... You are afraid he is just a temporary fling and you don't want to get hurt again by investing in something that's not worth it. I know you, Yoonie. But let me ask you; how did you feel when you talked to him earlier today? I bet you felt great. Am I wrong?"

"I did feel great, but that's part of the issue. What if it's more than a fling? What if our views on our relation are different? I'm pretty sure he's flirting with me big time. What if I meet him in Seoul and something happens? What if this trip is a mistake?"

"Okay, okay. Let me stop you right there. You're not going to South Korea to see Minho. You're going for yourself. You're going because you are looking for answers. About your life. Your past. Your memories. That's it. Don't make this trip about him. You just happened to meet someone from there a few months ago, but none of what happened here, nor what you planned to do before Jaebum left, has to do with that boy Minho. Please keep that in mind."

"You're right..."

"Of course, I'm right. And to be honest, I'm almost tempted to accompany you on your trip because I am legit scared you'll do and think stupid things again. And the last thing I want is seeing you fall for a guy and make him the whole center of your life again. You have to take care of yourself. You're hurt. You need to heal first before anything else."

I smile, sadly.

"I'm not kidding, Seungyoon."

"It's just that... Minho told me the exact same thing..."

Jinwoo hums. He doesn't seem convinced. 

"Be careful, Yoon. Please."

"I will. Thanks, Jinwoo. You're a good friend."

"You bet I am. Now, we have to hurry up and open this bar. Can you wash the bottles and the glasses after you're done with the tables? You'll play around 10PM tonight, ok? Hoon is going to come probably around 9 to let you prepare."

"Fine by me!"

We continue cleaning the venue. Soon enough, people start coming in, and I take my place behind the bar, ready to bartend.

~ °°° ~

The night went well. Despite the events of the day and my high level of tiredness, I was somewhat proud of my performance. When Jinwoo, Hoon and I finish closing the place at 1AM, I hop on my bike, wishing good night to my friends and drive away. 

When I get home, I open the fridge, take a bottle of water and drink a big gulp before realizing I still have my coat on. While hanging it in the lobby, I take out my phone from my pocket. Dead. Of course. I go back to the living room, plug it and go to the bathroom to take a shower.

When I get out of the shower, I only put on a pair of sweatpants and sit on the sofa. I take my phone to see what I missed: 21 random notifications, and a call from my mom. I grab a sweater and go on the balcony to smoke a cigarette while checking up on the message my mom left me while I was working.

_Hello pumpkin. It's Mommy. I just wanted to talk to you about Christmas. I will be in LA at that time so, I don’t think we will see each other. I hope you feel better and if there's anything, you know you can come and see me. I don't have much space, but you are always very welcome to stay. Call me back soon. I love you._

My throat feels a little tighter. Hearing the sound of my mom's voice melts my heart and I suppress my tears. I'll call her tomorrow and take the time to talk to her. I finish my cigarette, but I stay outside. The cold air helps me think, and the silence of the backstreet is so calming. 

I light up another cigarette. I scroll through my text messages and stumble on Jaebum’s old messages. I shudder, thinking about this afternoon. I erase the old messages, then I go to my contact list and I also delete his number. I take another puff of the cigarette. It is leaving a disgusting aftertaste in my mouth. I throw it away and get back inside. I am heading to my bed, throwing my sweater on the floor when my phone rings. Video call. Minho. I sit on my bed and answer.

"Hello," I say smiling at a gorgeous Minho on the screen. "Wow! You look fabulous!"

"Ha ha! Thanks, I just finished an interview about KOZ's next issue, so this is my glamour face," Minho says, striking poses at the phone's camera. "You, on the other hand, look like it's way past your bedtime..."

"I'm really tired. I just came back from the venue, I was performing tonight."

"Oh. I wish I could hear you sing. I've been curious about that since we met."

I smile.

"I have a YouTube channel, you know. My friend Jinwoo used to record all my different sets and I think he still does and manages the channel. He's like my number one fan. I never watched any of those videos, though. It's so cringe. I can't look at myself performing; I find it too weird. But I'll find the link and send it to you if you want."

"I would love that."

I can't stop a yawn from interrupting our conversation.

"I'm so sorry about that. Performing is fun, but after the adrenaline rush passes, I fall asleep pretty quickly."

"You do look like you're going to doze off in seconds. I almost feel bad talking to you right now."

"Well, I guess it's even, since I kept you awake last night."

Minho smirks.

"It'll be even when I keep you up all night for real."

Was that...? Did I hear that right? I'm so tired, maybe my brain is playing tricks on me. Minho just smiles at me.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks.

"My head is still confused. But I think it's getting clearer now. You were right. I need to take care of myself. I need to regain some of my confidence. I need to heal a bit too."

"Happy to hear that. By the way, when are you coming to Seoul?"

"In about two weeks? My plane lands in Incheon on January 3rd around 5PM."

"We launch the issue by the end of December. So, my schedule will be pretty freed up in January... Do you... Do you want to spend some time with me when you'll get in Seoul?"

"Umm… That could be an idea. I'll keep you posted."

I smile and yawn again.

"Yeah, of course. I think you need to sleep. I’ll call you back."

"I'm happy you called, but I'm literally falling asleep in your face."

"I don't mind, you're pretty with your puffy eyes."

I laugh.

"You keep mocking me."

"Jal ja chingu. Let's talk tomorrow."

"Okay..."

Minho looks up to something out of the screen and seems to nod at someone.

"...And Minho?"

He looks back at me.

"I know I already told you that but I'm happy we made contact again. Like really happy. Let's not stop talking to each other. Talking to you brings me this warm feeling."

He smiles softly, touched by my words.

"Then we won't stop."

"Bye then."

"Bye."

I turn off my phone and drop dead on my bed, my head spinning with a thousand questions, and one warm feeling. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel so alone in my room. Reimagining Minho's face, his body, fantasizing about the moment I'll be face to face with him again, counting the nights before my flight to Seoul, I slowly fall into a deep slumber.


	12. Puppy Love (Interlude n°2)

**{Jinwoo}**

Christmas Eve. Through the curtains of the bedroom window, I can see the sky has taken a darker shade of grey, as the sun slowly sets on the garden asleep under a blanket of snow. There is something quite peaceful about it. I peek at myself in the mirror, rearranging a strand of hair. I'm proud of my little look. Burgundy shirt, black leather pants, and a fine silver chain to add a bit of sparkles. I smirk at my reflection. _You look good, boy._

I get downstairs to the kitchen. There is a bottle of red wine opened on the table. Hoony is putting the finishing touch on some of the appetizers. It's a rare occasion to see him all dressed in sexy black clothes from head to toe, so I take a moment to admire his silhouette. Hoon lift his head when he hears me and softly whistles. As he comes closer, circling his hands on my hips, I am amazed to see the fire in his eyes hasn't diminished after seven years. Sometimes, it almost feels like we fell in love yesterday. 

"You look delicious," Hoon says, leaning in to take my lips with a kiss. 

I will never get tired of his kisses. I stroke his cheek with the palm of my hand. 

"And you are gorgeous," I reply.

He blushes. I smile and look around the kitchen.

"Do you need help with something?"

Hoon pulls me closer in his embrace.

"No, everything is okay. But I want a little more of this."

His fingers lift up my chin, and his tongue run on my lower lip. I open my mouth to let him kiss me deeply. I run my hands through his short cut hair.

"I love you," he whispers, when we break the kiss.

"I love you too," I say, looking back in his loving eyes.

There is a knock on the door. Haute runs to the lobby, jumping and barking. 

"That should be Seungyoon and his little guy," says Hoon, going towards the front door.

Seungyoon enters, wearing his long winter coat and holding a small ball of curly brown fur in his arms. Haute is sitting patiently at his feet, waiting to greet the small puppy nesting against Yoon's chest. 

"Come on Haute, leave Thor a little space now," Hoon says, leading his dog out of the lobby. 

Seungyoon laughs. I come to him, take the poodle from his arms while he gets out of his coat. Thor whimpers, searching for Yoon.

"He does love you a lot, doesn't he?" I say, laughing.

"We love each other a lot," Yoon answers.

Two weeks ago, a couple of days after the whole Jaebum's-leaving-conundrum, Seungyoon asked me to accompany him to the shelter. 

"If I adopt a dog... would you want to keep him while I'm in Seoul?"

I chuckled and smiled.

"Of course I will, Yoonie. Anything you need."

He beamed a perfect smile, and it warmed my heart. And that's when I saw him fall in love with a little ball of fur, a tiny poodle saved from a puppy mill. Volunteers at the shelter named him Thor, hoping the puppy would grow to be strong. Yoon was devastated when he learned Thor would probably be put down due to a lack of shelter space during the Holidays season.

"People buy dogs from puppy mills, give them as Christmas presents, and the puppies are often abandoned some time after because people don't know how to take care of them," said one of the shelter workers.

Seungyoon took Thor in his arms. The puppy licked his cheeks and I saw my friend's face glow up. All his worries seemed to leave the second he held the small animal in his hands. He laughed, and I witnessed the return of the old Seungyoon, the joyful carefree boy I used to know years ago. Yoon signed all the papers and adopted Thor on the spot.

Since then, they never left each other. Yoon brought Thor every day at the store, he went on long walks with Hoon and Haute. He bought him tons of toys and other stuff. I am relieved to see Yoon so enamored of his new best friend. Bonding with a loving ball of fur is probably the best way to get over a heartache. 

"I have good news!" Seungyoon exclaims once in the living room, with Thor closely following his steps. 

I bring him a glass of wine. We all cheer. 

"I found a new apartment for Thor and me. It's just two blocks from here."

"Wow! That's great news, Yoon!" Says Hoon. "Is it a big place?"

"Just enough for us two. He'll even have a little patch of green grass to run in the spring."

"When are you moving?" I ask.

"When I come back in January, I'll start packing. My rent starts February 1st."

"I'm happy for you, Yoon," I say, lifting once again my glass. "To yours and Thor's new home!"

And we cheer again, the glasses clinking against one another. Hoon brings the appetizers after checking on the turkey in the stove. We eat, talking about how we're glad the holidays are here. The last days at the record store were monstrously busy. We had shows at the venue every night, lots of them led by Yoon, and Seungyoon tells me how relieved he is to know it's over for a couple of weeks. 

"Did you finish planning your trip?" Hoon asks.

"Yes! Finally!" says Seungyoon, gleaming. "I talked to my mom Tuesday, and she gave me full names and addresses of her friends in Seoul, the people we used to visit when I was kid. She didn't talk to me about Busan though, but that's all right. I think I will just go peek around at some point when I'm in Korea. But it was nice to talk to my mom about my project. She was touched, I think, to see me taking an interest in our past. She gave me a list of things to see, eat, buy and bring back home."

"Where will you stay?"

"I rented a one-room apartment for eight nights. It's well situated I think. At a junction of many subway lines. It looks nice. Simple. Just what I need."

Seungyoon smiles. I never saw him so confident about this trip to Seoul. It was always a struggle, like he was thinking he was doing a bad thing. He was always hesitant, but now seeing him all hyped up to leave in a week, I can't help but to be happy and reassured. 

"Did you talk to your guy back there, Minho, was it?" asks Hoon.

I throw him a mean glare. He winks back at me. Hoon knows I am extremely protective of Yoon, and this story with Minho has been bugging me a little. Thor whimpers at Seungyoon's feet. He bends down to lift the puppy off the ground and into his arms. 

"We talked a couple of times in the last weeks. He is very busy right now, so we mostly text each other. Sometimes video calls."

"Sexy video calls?" Hoon inquires. 

I give him a nudge with my foot. 

"What kind of question is that?" I object.

Yoon laughs. 

"It's fine. It's fine, Jinwoo. No, they are not that kind of video calls. Although I'm not saying we don't flirt. We flirt a lot. I'll probably go out with him in Seoul. He says he'll show me some places."

Hoon lets out a whistle. I lean back in my chair, glancing at Seungyoon. He looks so in control of his life now, so confident. He looks well. Seungyoon turns his eyes on me and smirks. 

"Don't look at me like that, Jinwoo. I'll be careful, I won't be reckless, but that doesn't mean I won't have fun and enjoy everything I can."

I smile. We hear the stove ringing.

"The turkey is ready," says Hoon, standing up. 

Seungyoon and I get up and walk to the dining table. I pull him in a tight hug. At first the movement surprises him, but he closes his arms on my back.

"You're right, Yoonie. I'll keep worrying, but it's because I care about you. You go and have fun in Seoul. I am genuinely happy to see you like that, Seungyoon. Strong, assertive, optimistic." 

He pats my back. 

"Thank you, Jinwoo, for being this amazing friend."

We sit around the dining table, while Hoony brings out the turkey and the side dishes. We keep eating, drinking, laughing all evening. 

~ °°° ~

When Seungyoon leaves the house, with a sleepy puppy nuzzled in his coat, Hoon joins me in the kitchen while I wash the dishes.

"Come," he says, taking my hand. "We'll clean tomorrow morning."

He leads me up the stairs and into the bedroom. We don't turn on the lights; instead Hoon opens the curtains. In the dark night, the snowflakes slowly fall down from the sky, like little feathers. Hoon embraces me from behind, his arms around my stomach, his mouth leaving kisses on my nape. We stay still, watching the calm Christmas night outside. 

"I love you," he breathes in my ear.

I turn around to kiss him. He squeezes me harder against him, kissing me back. Then, he takes my hand in his and, with his other hand, pulls a ring from his pocket. I see it shine in the obscurity of the room.

"Kim Jinwoo, will you marry me?"

My heart melts immediately. Tears escape my eyes. I hug him, kiss him all over his face. He laughs. 

"After seven years together just growing to love you more and more, I figured we could push it further?"

"Yes," I manage to say, kissing his lips with mine. "Yes, I'll marry you Lee Seunghoon!"

Hoon lifts me in his arms and lies us down on the bed. 

"Merry Christmas, my love."


	13. Jet-lagged (Day 1)

**Thursday, January 3 rd**

**{Seungyoon}**

The plane lands on the runway at the Incheon Airport. With my passport and visa papers in hand, I review one more time in my head the steps to take before arriving at the apartment, as people start getting up to leave the plane: go through customs, buy a SIM card, buy a transport card, buy my train ticket, find the train. I repeat those words in my mind, trying to fight the weariness that is taking over me. I can't sleep in planes. And it's kind of a big issue when you take a 14-hour flight to the other side of the planet. My body is stiff from the flight, and my mind feels like a liquified marshmallow.

_Customs, SIM, transport card, ticket, train. Customs, SIM, transport card, ticket, train._

I repeat my mantra as I roll my carry-on in the long corridors leading to customs. Hoon gave me the brightest of tips when he suggested I only bring a carry-on instead of a big suitcase. My luggage was small enough to fit in the overhead compartment, and now it's easy to escape the sea of people waiting for their suitcases at the luggage carrousel.

After customs, the space soon opens up to a large area with coffee shops, boutiques, and various shopping counters. I buy a SIM card, trying to understand the instructions given by the lady behind the counter, but my brain won't absorb any information. I must look pathetic as hell, trying to change my SIM card with my hands feeling like two potatoes at the end of my arms, because the seller (she seems accustomed to this kind of behavior) gestures me to give her my phone and installs the card for me. I smile and thank her. Then, I buy a transport card and some snacks and drinks in a convenience store, and I follow the indications to the A'REX train that will take me from Incheon to Seoul. I buy my ticket in a booth and run down the stairs when I hear the signal of the train. I find my seat, after walking through several wagons. The train is almost empty. I sit down, take a big gulp of water and a deep breath. I'm pretty sure I smell really bad. I can't wait to take a shower. 

It's dark outside, so I don't see the scenery, but the one-hour commute to Seoul Station gives me time to absorb the fact that I have indeed arrived in South Korea after all these months of doubting and planning.

When the train stops at Seoul Station, I am submerged by the flow of people everywhere. I almost forgot it's Thursday around 6PM, and it's rush hour. With my jet-lagged brain, I manage to take my transfer on Line 4. The subway is packed. Fortunately, I get out after four stops and proceed through the right exit. 

I emerge from the underground to the somewhat fresh air of the Seoulite evening, my first contact with a real actual exterior source of air in almost 20 hours. Outside, it is cold, but not as cold as I thought it would be. There is no wind and the air is dry. People walk on the streets with open winter coats and sneakers. It's so different from my cold Canadian winter with the freezing air piercing through all the layers of clothing. I roll my luggage on the boulevard around two blocks until I arrive at the bottom of a tall building. I check the address on my phone, enter the building and take the elevator up to the ninth floor.

It takes me three times to punch the right security code before the door of the apartment opens. I get in and the small lobby lights up. I take off my shoes and open the lights in the rest of the room. It is a small single room furnished with a bed, a couch, a TV, a little desk and a kitchenette. The room is situated on the corner of the building so there is a window on each two exterior walls. I peek outside to see some activity down on the street. I close the curtains, drop the suitcase on the couch and get off my smelly shirt and my pants. Then, I venture in the bathroom. Instantly, I'm reminded of when I was a kid. The shower head hangs over a sink in a corner opposite the toilet, without any glass or division whatsoever. I remember our bathroom was in a similar setup when I grew up in Busan. I take a shower; the water on my skin feels so good. I feel my muscles relax, and I yawn. I get out of the bathroom, put on a pair of fresh underwear. I should text Jinwoo and my mom to tell them I arrived safely. I look at the clock on the wall; it's 8PM. I try to calculate what time it is in Toronto. My stomach grumbles but my eyelids are heavy. I'm too tired to think. I close the lights, lay down in the bed, get under the comforter and immediately fall asleep.

* * *

**{Minho}**

"Do you want to get chicken and beer?" asks Jiho. "I'm offering."

It's 6PM and we just finished wrapping all the paperwork from the magazine launch that happened on New Year's Eve. I'm cleaning my desk, knowing I'm not entirely sure if I'll sit there again in the near future.

"You can leave some things here, you know..." says Jiho, with a wry smile. "Don't feel obligated to erase all traces of your passage on the team."

I chuckle. That's my Jiho: no problem agreeing to give me space, but always reluctant to let me go.

"Give me a month to think about it, okay, hyung?"

"Yes, yes, of course. But can it really hurt to leave some of your things here? So you can come and visit, have a drink and a laugh with us...?"

He makes a pouty face. I laugh. 

"Stop that, Jiho. You're almost cute."

He giggles and puts his hand on my shoulder. 

"So, chicken and beer?"

I nod. 

"Yes. Good idea."

We put on our coats and leave the office, locking the door behind us. The night is cool but not cold. Just enough to turn your cheeks a darker shade of pink. We enter our usual chicken joint at the corner of the street. We get beers while we wait on the fried chicken.

"So, what are you gonna do during this one month fully paid vacation time, courtesy of your very best friend, me?"

I kick his leg under the table. 

"I'll paint. I want to update my portfolio and maybe try to organize a small exhibition or something. I miss painting."

"Oh, I get that. It's a nice project. Maybe we could cover it, in one of our next issues."

"That would be great. I mean, we'll wait to see if I manage to paint anything of interest, then successfully put out an event, and then we'll talk about featuring in KOZ."

"Yeah, for sure. Take your time. I didn't want to put pressure. Just letting you know it could be a nice collab. Even if you don't come back on the team..."

He winks at me.

"Jiho, I really enjoyed working with you guys. With everybody. It's been a while since I worked with people, as part of a real team, and I really liked the last two months. But you know me, I like doing lots of different things, and right now, I need a slower pace."

"Yeah, yeah sure, I understand that completely. It's been a hectic moment, but we had fun, right?"

"Hell yeah. I never thought I could be this much involved in the conception of a project as a mere graphic designer. You create such a rich working environment, inviting everybody to pitch in. Asking every one of us for advice, ideas. You're a great boss, Jiho. I like working with you."

"Thanks, buddy. Your words sincerely warm me. I like working with you too."

We take sips of our beers. Jiho lets out a satisfied sigh just as the plate of chicken arrives on the table. We dig in. 

"When is your boy arriving?" Jiho asks with a mouthful.

I check my phone. 

"I think he landed almost two hours ago. He should be at his place by now."

Jiho gives me in a puzzled look.

"Why didn't you pick him up at the airport?"

I dismiss the thought with a movement of my hand, while I finish chewing on a bite of spicy meat.

"He specifically asked me not to call him until tomorrow," I manage to say, swallowing my food. "He says he doesn't want me to suffer his irritating jet-lagged mood. His words, not mine."

Jiho laughs. 

"You are totally whipped for that boy. I can't believe it."

"I do like him," I mutter.

I take a big swig of beer. I feel blood rushing to my face, and it makes Jiho laugh harder.

"Whatever you do, he loudly whispers. Don't let him know you're listening to his YouTube channel on repeat all the time for the last two weeks."

I open my mouth in shock.

"I do not listen to his channel _all the time_. I just really like some of his covers... and some of his original songs too..."

Jiho taunts me, while I drink my beer.

"Admit it. I'm pretty sure you listen to his voice in your bed every night."

I almost spit out the alcohol from my nose. He bursts into laughter.

"Not _every_ night..." I reply.

He continues laughing while drinking his beer. 

"I knew it. You're whipped."

"His voice is really something, hyung. You heard it, right? It's mesmerizing. I can't get enough. And I can't believe he doesn't have an international career with a voice like that..."

"It's true, his voice is unique, and he is extremely talented. You can see he works hard on perfecting his skills."

"Exactly."

Jiho chuckles.

"Boy, I can't believe it... You're such a fanboy..."

I laugh. The chicken plate is over, so are our glasses of beer.

"I'm gonna head home, okay, hyung. I'm tired," I say.

Jiho nods.

"Yeah, me too."

I put on my coat and move towards the exit.

"Hope you'll fall asleep listening to your favorite lullabies," he shouts behind me.

I just lift a middle finger over my head without looking back. I hear him chuckle as I exit through the front door.


	14. Dead Battery (Day 2)

**Friday, January 4 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

I open an eye. The room is plunged into darkness. I sit up in the bed, stretch my arms, scratch my head, then extend a hand to light the lamp on the nightstand. The clock displays 4:30. I turn on the TV, but I cut the sound on some infomercial about a scrubbing spray for the shower. I open the fridge and take out a packaged cold coffee. I definitely don't remember putting the things I bought at the airport in the refrigerator when I arrived yesterday, but it seems like I did. There's a bunch of gimbaps, my bottle of water and even a pack of dry ramyun noodles. Yeah... Jet-lag much. At least there are no casualties. I take a large sip of the Americano iced coffee as I start snooping around, opening the closets, the cabinets and the drawers. By the microwave, I find a book full of instructions left by the owner.

As I'm discovering the wonderful world of sorting recyclable materials and waste disposal, my phone, lost somewhere in the bed, makes an agonizing long beep. I sigh. I forgot to charge it yesterday, and now it's dead again. I rummage through the sheets to find it and plug it. I continue flicking through the pages of the leaflet. I learn how to adjust the heating floor, which I do on the spot because my feet are starting to get cold. I take a look at the TV. It's now a rerun of a show I watched on Netflix a couple of months ago. I sit on the edge of the bed and gently increase the volume. I take my travel guide to Seoul from the bottom of my bag and start looking for things to do on my first day in the city, occasionally taking a distracted look at the television. 

My phone dings. It regained some charge, and I'm starting to receive all the messages I missed while sleeping. I smile when I see the picture Jinwoo sent me of my baby Thor on his cushion in the living room, under the inquisitive eye of Bei.

_I don't think Bei understands what Thor's doing here ^^_

I giggle. They're so cute. I miss Thor already. Being with him 24/7 for the past two weeks, it's hard not to feel his curly fur under my fingers. Jinwoo promised me to flood our conversation with pictures of him.

_indeed. but I think they'll be friends soon enough_

The second I send the message, Jinwoo calls me.

"Hey Yoon! How are you? Not too jet-lagged?"

"I'm good. I'm good. I've been up since 4:30, but I was expecting that. I just hope I'll get over the time transition pretty quickly."

"Yeah, well, you can't really do much about that... Did you sleep on the plane?"

"Nah. I took walks around the lanes with the lady sitting next to me. We talked all the way to Seoul. She was very chatty. Her husband looked exhausted at a certain point, but it was funny to share these weird moments with a nervous insomniac like me."

Jinwoo laughs. 

"Wow, and what did you talk about for all those hours?"

"I pretty much know her whole life. Where her kids live, what they do, the state of their marriage, the state of her marriage. And I'm skipping some stuff. I told her my plan. She was very impressed. Told me I was courageous to do something like that. She even gave me her phone number to call if anything happened. Then, at some point, she fell asleep, and I watched TV."

"Do you plan to call her?" Jinwoo asks, jokingly.

"Only if I'm really bored."

We both laugh. 

"What time is it in Toronto? I lost track of the time zones and stuff."

"It's 5:55PM to be exact. You?"

"Almost 7AM."

"Oh, so you're, what, 13 hours in the future?"

I chuckle.

"Yeah, that's about it."

"How does the place look like?"

"It's nice. I'll send you a video I filmed this morning when I explored around."

"Okay, cool. And what will you do today?"

I take a moment to think, opening my travel guide.

"Mmmm... I thought I could go see some of the big palaces, I feel like I want touristy vibes, you know, monuments, museums. I was thinking about walking a lot too. It's not very cold here. I never thought it could actually be pleasant to take a long walk in January."

Jinwoo snorts. 

"Okay, well, I'll let you do that. I have to close the shop and go back home. Hoon and I are mainly spending our evenings together having some wedding planning fun these days."

I smile, and I'm pretty sure he can hear that smile on the other side of the line.

"I'm so happy for you both, Jinwoo. Take care."

"Yeah, you too. We'll talk soon! And don't forget to text your mom! She called me asking if I had news from you. I think she doesn't know she can call you."

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks, Jinwoo!"

I hang up and immediately call my mom, but I end up leaving a voice message, telling her that everything is fine and that I'll call her back later. I then proceed to check the way on foot to the Gyeongbokgung Palace. Seems doable. And if I leave soon enough, I'll be there for the opening and avoid crowds. I realize I'm still only in my briefs, so I put on a shirt. I pull the curtains to peek outside and open the window. The air is fresh, and the sun begins to rise. To the right, I clearly see on the corner of the street the Dongdaemun Design Plaza and its funky space-crafty architecture. To my left, in a distance, I can see a mountain range, a gray shadow that stands out against the orange sky. I take my Leica, adjust the exposure and take a picture. A cold breeze comes in. I shiver and close the window. 

After I finish dressing up, I pack some snacks and a bottle of water in my bag. I put my coat on, fixing my camera around my neck and making sure I got my wallet, my passport and my phone in my pockets, before leaving the apartment.

~ °°° ~

The streets are empty: the perks of going for a walk early in the morning. I decide to make a detour to find an ATM machine and withdraw some pocket money. When I finally find one that accepts my card, I'm a little lost. I check my phone and follow the path dictated by the GPS. Even the great boulevards are calm and peaceful. I take some pictures, trying to capture the eerie atmosphere of the sleeping city at dawn. I feel a little lost and fascinated by everything that feels so close and familiar, yet belonging to an unknown territory.

After walking for about 30 minutes in the direction designated by my phone, I sense something is wrong. I check the GPS again... and it's clearly acting up. I stop at the corner of a narrow street, thinking. Most definitely, I won't be able to find my way back with that stupid GPS, but it doesn't mean I'm lost. With all the subway stations in Seoul, I'll manage to find my way back easily. And I came out today to walk and explore the city. So, let's make this into a game. Let's see if I can discover something interesting while wandering around.

I continue going on that small street when I pass some wooden stairs going up what looks like a mountain park or something. A sign says, "Namsan Observatory." I climb up the stairs and walk to a little wooden deck overlooking the city. I can hear the birds, the footsteps of some joggers, and nothing else. And the view is majestic. I look at an explanatory map and learn that the mountain range at the horizon, the same one I saw from my room, is called Bukhansan, the "Mountain North of the Han River." I sit on the bench to eat something, taking in the serenity of the view, taking a few shots of the sea of buildings at my feet. Then I get up and walk a small path that goes down in the woods. I emerge on what looks like a university campus. It's empty, probably because we're in January and the semester hasn't started yet. I wander through the gardens and the open spaces full of sculptures when my phone rings. It's Minho. With everything that happened this morning, I almost forgot how giddy I was in the plane, knowing he would eventually call to see me. Last time we talked, I specifically asked him not to call me and see me until I have a good night's sleep. And when I answer the call with a shaky hand, I hear Minho's sleepy voice:

"Hey you... What are you doing?"

It has that raspy sound to it. A little something that makes me want to revel in it. 

"Nothing much. I'm walking around. You?"

"Just making myself a coffee. Where are you?"

I laugh.

"To be totally honest with you, I don't have a clue."

Minho's tone changes. 

"What do you mean? Are you lost?"

There is a bit of panic in his voice, and it makes me chuckle.

"No! Don't worry. Look, I was planning to go to Gyeongbokgung Palace on foot, but my phone's GPS fucked up. Wait a minute, I'll read this sign here..."

I get closer to the exit gate of the campus.

"I'm at Donggyuk University campus. I'm actually leaving on a street named Dongharo."

I hear him rush over the phone.

"Okay, I know where you are! Don't move! I'll go get you!"

I let out a laugh.

"Don't worry! I see a subway station. I'll find my way. Don't come here just for that! I'm fine!"

"Stay there! I'll be there in 10 minutes. Find a warm place to stay; it's cold outside. I'll come and get you!"

He hangs up and I smile. He's cute. Getting worried like that, for me. He's right, though, my fingers and my legs are starting to get really cold. I spot a coffee shop on the road and get in to order a vanilla latte. It's been a while since I drank a sweet coffee like this, but this is a very welcome warming sensation. I look at my phone. Dead again. Damn that old battery. I go out on the street, sit on the sidewalk just in time to see a motorcycle abruptly stopping in front of me.

* * *

**{Minho}**

"You've got to be kidding me!"

I'm talking out loud on my own while I hurricane through my room, picking up pieces of clothing to wear on the way.

"It's -10 C° outside. He can't just go wandering around!"

I finish dressing up, storm in the bathroom to somewhat comb my hair and brush my teeth. I didn't expect to be rushing out like this; I thought I would have more time to prepare before seeing him. Yesterday, I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to find what to wear, what to say, how to approach Seungyoon. I fell asleep in all my great confusion. So, when I woke up, the first thing I did was call him. And now I'm jumping on my bike to save him from the clutches of winter.

Okay, I may be exaggerating. It doesn't feel that cold outside, but nonetheless I leave Itaewon taking the long tunnel that goes through the Namsan Mountain and emerge a couple of blocks from where Seungyoon said he was. I finally see him, sitting on the pavement, sipping coffee. Seeing him in real life, after all this time, seems surreal. I stop the motorcycle in front of him, taking off my helmet. He smiles, gets up in a swift move and walks towards me. I remember the last time I saw him in person, as he smiled at me, telling me goodnight before entering his hotel room with his then-boyfriend. I try to toss that memory away, focusing on his face right now under the bright winter sun, his pink cheeks and his full lips stretched into a charming smile. 

"You shouldn't have rushed in like that," he says.

"It's fine. Are you okay?"

He laughs.

"Of course I'm okay. Look, he says, gesturing at his body and his long legs, I'm all in one piece. Did you even have your coffee?"

I pass a hand through my hair.

"No, not really."

"You want some?" Seungyoon asks, giving me his cup.

I take it from his cold hand, my gloved fingers touching his skin. I take a sip.

"Oh, wow. That's way too sugary for me!" I exclaim, laughing. 

"I know... It's been ages since I had sugar in my coffee. Even I'm not used to it."

He takes a last sip before throwing the cup in the garbage bin. I look at my watch.

"Do you still want to go to Gyeongbokgung?"

"Yeah, sure."

I pat the seat behind me.

"Then, hop on."

"You know, it's funny you ride a bike like that, because that's actually what I ride home too," Seungyoon says, taking place behind me.

I feel his chest press against my back and his arms circling my torso. My heart bounces when I sense his fingers grip to my shirt. Having him so close to me feels good. I start the engine and drive away to the Gwanghwamun District. 

~ °°° ~

I park my bike alongside a narrow street in Bukchon Hanok Village. I am actually impressed to see the small alleys empty.

"It's usually really full of people here," I tell Seungyoon who wanders around, taking pictures, in awe.

"It's pretty," he says. "I guess it's prettier when there are leaves in the trees."

"It is, but it gets very crowded."

Seungyoon hums. He continues walking up the road, looking around at the closed shops. I walk a little behind, observing his gait, the way the wind lifts the bottom of his coat, revealing his legs. It feels so unreal to watch him walk, breath, laugh in front of me, in my beloved city, only a few meters away. Seungyoon turns around.

"Why are you so far? Come on here. Am I going in the right direction?"

I smile and walk up to him.

"You're going in the right direction."

I put my hand on his shoulder, my head just next to his, our cheeks almost touching, and I point at something in front of us.

"You see the stone wall at the end of the street there? That's one of the exterior walls of the Palace Garden."

~ °°° ~

We enter the Gyeongbokgung Palace. The red and green architecture stands out on the clearest blue sky. Seungyoon walks between the pillars, through all the little doors, amazed. 

"I never thought I would be a tourist when I woke up this morning!" I say, jokingly.

Seungyoon turns and takes a picture of me. 

"Is it boring you? Doing this stuff?"

I smile and get closer.

"Absolutely not."

I touch his stone-cold cheek with the tip of my fingers. The pupils of his eyes slightly dilate. He parts his lips while upholding my gaze. My heartbeat accelerates, but my stomach grumbles, disrupting the moment. He laughs. 

"Are you hungry? Do you want to have a bite somewhere?"

I nod, my hand falling to my side.

"There is a good bakery not far from here. Let's go there."

~ °°° ~

The warmth of the bakery is so nice after the great walk in the park. We get sandwiches, salads and pastries and we sit down at a small table next to a window. Our knees touch under the table, but I don't move my legs, and neither is he. We just talk and laugh. Our conversation feels natural, and it unfolds exactly like the discussions we had on the phone, except he's there, in front of me, sipping his cola. I can feel the vibration of his laughter, the pressure of his legs against mine. 

"What is that over there?" He asks, pointing at the building on the other side of the street.

"It's the MMCA, the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. It's a nice place. I used to go there a lot before I left for Paris. Do you want to go?"

Seungyoon looks at me with big eyes.

"Do _you_ want to go? I don't want to drag you in places you already know well. I don't want you to get bored."

I take his hand on the table. His eyes shift from my face to our joined hands then back to my face again.

"I won't ever get bored of sharing what I love with you."

Seungyoon blushes and slides off his hand to take his fork and continue eating. He smiles looking at the last parcel of lettuce in his plate.

~ °°° ~

We spend the afternoon exploring the exhibitions in the museum. I show Seungyoon some of my favorite pieces, and we talk a lot about art history. I am impressed by his level of art knowledge. Outside, in the backyard, we stop admiring a giant sculpture, a dandelion made of thousands of colorful pans and pots. Seungyoon looks tired. 

"You okay?" I ask, circling my arm around his shoulders. Seems like his legs are shaky.

"I'm tired. I think it's still like 1AM in my head right now. My battery is dead, just like my phone."

I smile.

"Well, then, I'll get you home."

When we arrive in front of his building, he gets off the bike. 

"Hey," I say, softly. "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Just need charging."

"Do you want to eat dinner with me after your nap?"

A little smile sketches on his lips.

"I don't know if I'll be awake enough to go out, but I'll call you when I wake up, okay?"

He waves at me and enters the building.

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

I wake up totally out of phase. I remember going up in the elevator, punching the code to the door, pulling the curtains before passing out of the tiredness. It's dark outside and my legs hurt. I look at the clock. It's already past 9. I take my dead phone, plug it and wait a couple of minutes for it to wake up. I text Minho.

_hey I'm still fucked up from the jet-lag. do you still want to do something? Im confused about what time it is, but Im famished_

I receive an answer a couple of minutes afterwards, as I'm just staring at the blank wall, trying to gather my wits.

_Ok, on my way. be there in 15_

I take that time to wash up a bit and change into new clothes. My phone rings.

"Hey, it's me. I'm outside."

"Okay, coming down."

When I get downstairs, Minho is leaning against a tree on the border of the street. He's wearing a longer jacket. No motorcycle to be found near.

"Hey, where's your bike?" I ask.

"Took a taxi. There is a pop-up bar just there, next to the hospital."

He points to a blue tent a street away.

"They make good chicken. I thought we could eat and have a drink there. And because my plan involved alcohol, I preferred not taking my bike. And if you're tired, we can easily get you home."

"Sounds good."

I try not to smirk at the obvious underlining proposal. We walk to the bar. The chicken is good, far better than any fried chicken I had back home. Paired with some mean somaek, our conversation is quickly filled with laughter tears and giggles. 

"You did what?"

"They dared me to do it. We were drunk as hell. It was New Year's Eve; we were crashing a party after KOZ's launch. We knew nobody there. Of course I did it."

"You crashed a tower of champagne glasses and just flexed?"

"That's about it. But I didn't throw a chair at it or anything. I took out a glass just right in the middle, to see if it would collapse."

"And it did..."

I put my elbows on the table, hide my face in my hands.

"And it did, and Jiho, Jihoon and I just ran away from the waiters and the security guards."

My fingers trace the lines on my forehead to rest on my temples, the palms of my hands still on my cheeks. I look at Minho, dazed, and I sigh, chuckling:

"You're really something, you know. Never know what to expect when you tell me a story. It's like that thing with your hair. God, your poor hair..."

"Hey, that's not exactly the same thing."

"It is _exactly_ the same thing. You got drunk with Jiho, and you did something stupid."

I laugh and add:

"I'm beginning to think Jiho is a really bad influence for you."

He laughs, running his fingers through his hair. 

"Maybe he is, sometimes, but I wouldn't be the person I am now without him."

I smirk.

"You wouldn't be blonde, that's for sure."

He makes a funny face again, before taking a shot of soju. In the crude light of the pop-up bar, I can see the fine lines of his eyes, the features of his face accentuated by the thin shimmer of sweat that illuminates his cheekbones. It suddenly makes me think of Hawaii, and my mind becomes even more confused, juxtaposing my memory of an inaccessible Minho on the beach and the image of him, smiling now, in front of me.

"I think I need to take a walk," I say, awkwardly getting up from my chair.

"Yeah, sure. Me too," Minho says, before joining me outside of the tent.

I take a good look at him, but this time under the orange light of the lamppost. 

"I get confused sometimes," I say. "Feels like the memories I have with you are not totally real. Does it happen to you too?"

His head falls on his chin, as he sighs.

"It does."

He lifts back his gaze, and I see a light smile on his lips.

"But whatever I remember or not, I want to build new memories. Here. With you."

I feel emotions building up in my chest.

"You're tired?" He asks me. 

I shake my head. 

"No, not really."

"You want to walk?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go. I'll show you something."

He reaches out his hand to me. And I feel a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins as I grip his fingers to follow him.

~ °°° ~

Minho leads me through the majestic architecture of the Dongdaemun Design Plaza, with its fascinating metallic curves and the ocean of LED flowers hidden in its center. On our way, we cross the path of other couples holding hands, just like us. We continue walking on the street until we reach a flight of stairs going down to the landscaped shore of a stream.

"This is Cheonggyecheon. There were structures built on top of the stream for years, buildings and shops. And then almost fifteen years ago, the city decided to open it up, to revitalize it and they designed this promenade. You know, this morning, if you would have walked all the way to the start of the stream, you would've joined Sejongdaero and an incredible view of Gyeongbokgung."

He chuckles.

"Instead, you went in the exact opposite way."

We walk along the bank. 

"I think I know this place," I whisper.

"You've been here before?"

"No, I stopped coming to Seoul way before it was completed... No, it's one of the projects that inspired Jaebum a lot back when we were studying in Vancouver. He used to keep me updated on the progress. He even used it as his thesis subject."

Minho stays silent. All of a sudden, everything feels very weird.

Me standing here, in the middle of the night, in a decor that used to inhabit the imagination and the creativity of my ex-boyfriend.

Me standing here, my head spinning, my breath tasting like beer and soju, my muscles hurting from the jet-lag.

Me standing here, with this man I know so little about, while reminiscing of my time spent with somebody else.

I feel a gust of anxiety taking over me.

"I don't feel right," I mumble, sitting on a bench. 

Minho kneels down in front of me, passes his hand on my forehead, on my cheeks. 

"Take your time. Take some deep breaths."

He pats my hair with his left hand, his right one holding my knee. I inhale as deeply as I can. Then, when I expire, I feel the knot in my chest dissipate. 

"I'm sorry about that," I say, keeping my head down, looking at my shoes.

Minho continues stroking my hair. 

"It's okay, Seungyoon. It's okay."

I lift my head and nest my cheek in his hand. He helps me stand on my feet when I gesture to get up.

"Let's get you home," he says, sliding his arm under mine. 

And as we walked back to my apartment, I find the courage to express the thought that dwelled on my mind for the past hours.

"You know, I don't really know what to do here... With you... What do you hope to get from my presence here? What exactly do you expect from me? From us?"

He draws me a little closer against him.

"I want to get to know you. Spend time with you. As much as I can. Go further together."

Minho pauses.

"But only if that's what you want too."

We arrive in front of my building. It's way past midnight, and the cold wind rises. I'm still holding Minho's arm, our bodies standing close against the squall.

"Are you free tomorrow?" I ask, softly.

"I am," Minho whispers back.

"Do you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes."

Minho's voice is only a hoarse breath.

"I'll call you tomorrow then," I say.

I lean in and leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. His eyes glisten in the dark. I take a step back, not leaving his gaze. I take a step further, but Minho doesn't let go of my arm. I can feel the tension building up. Butterflies in my stomach. I come back to him and, slowly, I run the tip of my tongue on the edge of his lower lip, tugging at his piercing with my teeth. My mind burst ablaze when he stifles a muffled moan. I feel the fire coursing through my whole body, his hands clasping on my arm. I step back again.

"I'm tired. Good night."

Reluctantly, Minho lets go of my arm.

"Good night."

I slowly walk backwards to the entrance of the building, not letting him leave my sight. Then I turn around and take the elevator.


	15. Muscle Memory (Day 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains explicit sex scenes.

**Saturday, January 5 th**

**{Minho}**

I arrive at my flat in the early hours of the morning. When I turn the key in the lock, I hear my little orange fury jump off the kitchen counter as she rushes to the door. I try to muffle her meows by pulling her in a hug, but she is mad. I think I forgot to check if she had food in her bowl before going out. I go to the kitchen to give her kibbles and extra treats as a way to make amends, and I drink a big glass of water to calm the soju-induced slight burning sensation on my temples.

I lie down in my bed, looking at the shadows dancing in the room. A car passes by and I follow the ray of light moving across the ceiling. I'm still a little shocked. I chew on my lip, trying to taste the traces of Seungyoon's kiss, cursing myself. Why did I freeze like that when he came back to steal my heart with the tip of his tongue? I should have kissed him back, closed my arms on him, kept him against my chest. I should have devoured his mouth, inhaled each of his breaths, made him moan under my kisses, right there on the street, not caring about disrupting the silence of the night. 

Instead, I watched Seungyoon disappear in the elevator, and I stayed for several minutes gazing at the lobby of the building, hoping he would come back, fighting the desire to follow him inside. I remember looking up at the windows, wondering which one led to Seungyoon's room.

I keep reminding myself that it's better that way. To give him the space he needs after the anxiety episode he had earlier. I get it. I had several of those in the past. When I came back to Seoul after my breakup in Paris, every little things I did brought her back to my mind and I would feel like I was about to asphyxiate. To die from the pressure crushing my body. I learn they were panic attacks and I got help to control them better. But it was a long process. And I know they leave you totally drained of any parcel of energy you had. 

I just hope he's okay now. I hope he's sleeping well. I stare at the ceiling, thinking of him. I lift my arm and trace the lines of his face in the air. 

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

Where did I find the guts to do that?

I cringe a little, thinking about the metal taste of his piercing grazing my teeth.

I lay down in the bed, letting my fingers run on the skin of my chest.

Thinking about Minho.

Reliving that fire I felt.

Imagining my tongue running again on his lips.

Alongside his teeth.

Way down his neck.

My hand goes down further on my stomach, palming my growing erection through my boxers, my other hand tugging gently at my hair.

My mind wanders.

Imagining Minho's face.

His body.

It's been a while since I felt such a strong sexual urge towards someone.

After Jaebum left, I was never even tempted to have casual sex. The occasions weren't rare; every night after my performances, or even just when I was bartending, I received many lewd propositions from customers. But if some people cure their heartbreak in a collection of one-night stands, I believe I belong to those who go through a dry phase. I think I wasn't ready to be intimate again. The urges were there, but they were never strong enough for me to try to fulfill them. My life with Thor, the record store, my guitar and the presence of my friends really numbed my desires to sleep around.

I never was a one-night kind of guy anyway. Even before going out with Jaebum.

Jaebum.

His shadow overpowered me tonight. Just thinking about it hurts my chest.

I don't want to feel bad like that again. It's been a while since my last anxiety attack. It's kind of embarrassing it happened in front of Minho... Shit, it must have been so uncomfortable for him.

I realize my hands are just resting on my stomach, as I look at the ceiling. The sexual impulse is gone. I close the light, a sense of emptiness creeping up on me as I try to fall asleep.

~ °°° ~

I wake up to the sound of my ringing phone. I pat around my head to find it, unplug it and answer, my eyes still closed.

"Pumpkin? Am I waking you?"

Mom.

"No, it's fine," I mumble, opening an eye.

The room is flooded with light. I look at the clock; it's past 11AM.

"Is it the jet-lag? It usually takes me days and days to recover. Are you drinking enough water?"

I chuckle.

"I'm fine, Mom. How are you?"

I get up in bed and find my shirt on the floor. 

"I'm okay. I am actually waiting for my plane. I'm going back home."

"Your contract in LA is over?"

"Yes, those three months passed really quickly."

"You liked it there?"

"Yes, a lot."

I open the fridge. Nothing. 

"Listen, pumpkin, I will call Miyoung and Sanghoon to know if you can go to see them, maybe later this week."

I hum.

"Do they still live in the same place?"

"Yes, yes. In Mapo-gu. I'll call them and call you back to give you the address."

"I kind of miss that house..."

"You loved going there when you were little, running around, playing with the dog."

"Coco."

I smile, looking back at all these fond memories.

"Okay, pumpkin. I have to go now, but I'll call you back once I speak to Miyoung. Have a good trip, my darling. And be careful, okay?"

"Yes, Mom. Have a good flight."

I hang up, then stand in the middle of the room, scrolling my phone. Jinwoo sent me a ton of pictures of Thor, but I laugh even more at the meme versions of some of them sent by Hoon. My phone beeps. 

_15% battery_

I was pretty sure it was charging all the time I slept. I need to do something about that; it's ridiculous. I sit on the bed, plug it and call Minho. It rings a couple of times before he answers.

"Hey, I just woke up."

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Good, good. What are you doing?"

"Painting."

"Oh... Are you hungry?"

Minho snorts.

"Why do I feel you only call me when you're hungry?"

We both laugh. He adds:

"I've been so caught up in my head this morning, I almost forgot about eating. I guess it would be a good thing to have lunch."

"Or brunch? Do you know some places? I want waffles."

He laughs. 

"Yeah, I know a place with good waffles. Do you want me to get you?"

"Nah, it's fine. I feel like taking the subway. Can you just tell me which station to go to and meet me at the exit? Because I'm having big trouble with my phone. I think I'll have to go get it repaired or buy a cheap one instead."

Minho hums.

"We'll find something to help you. No worries. The restaurant is not far from your place if you take the subway. It's on Line 2. I'll wait for you at City Hall, the Sogong-ro exit, okay? Let's say we meet at half past noon?"

"Yeah, okay. City Hall. Sogong-ro exit. Sounds good. See you!"

~ °°° ~

I make my way to City Hall Station. Emerging from the underground unto the street, I turn around on myself and spot Minho coming towards me. I wave, almost shyly. He looks extra good with his blond hair styled backwards in a somewhat neglected way and his beige coat paired with a tartan scarf. He waves back, and a smile immediately forms on my lips.

"You slept well?" He asks, taking me arm-in-arm.

"I did. Woke up super late. I guess I'm over jet-lag now. I won't fall asleep on you in the middle of the afternoon anymore."

Minho chuckles, and pulls me closer to him as we cross the street.

We arrive in front of a European-looking bistro. We order waffles and coffee. While we wait, Minho fumbles in the pockets of his coat.

"I found something for you. I thought maybe it could help."

He puts a phone on the table. It's obviously been used. The screen is scratched and its yellow case looks a little cracked. 

"I had this phone last year, so it's not so old. And I know it's still good. You can have it if you want."

I am genuinely surprised. I take the phone in my hand, and take out mine. Next to my phone, Minho's old phone actually looks new. 

"Oh, thanks so much."

"I charged it a bit at home before coming here. But it may need some more. So here is the charging cable."

He pulls the cable from his pocket, but he drops his earphones and his wallet on the floor. I move to pick them up only to bump my head on Minho's forehead. I see stars for a second; Minho is stunned too. We look at each other holding our foreheads, and we start laughing.

"I'm sorry!" I say. "I just wanted to help you!"

"Didn't know you were so hard-headed," he replies.

I laugh. 

"So are you!"

We sit back. I see a smudge of blue paint on a strand of his hair.

"Wait, I think you have some paint in your hair," I say as extend a hand to take it out the dry paint. 

"Oh. Not everything got away in the shower this morning," he says, showing me the paint encrusted under his nails and in the fine lines of his hands. 

He has large hands, with long fingers, and little geometric figures tattooed on his skin. I pass a finger on the edge of his index's nail. 

"Did you try using a toothbrush?" I ask absentmindedly, still running my finger on his nail, holding his hand.

My question stays unanswered as the waitress comes in with our coffees and the waffles. I lift my hand from the table to make space for the plates filled with Belgian-style waffles, whipped cream and strawberries. We start eating.

"Is there something in particular you want to see or do after this?" Asks Minho, while biting in a strawberry. 

I'm distracted by his lips curled on the red fruit. 

"Mmm... I don't know... Are there things to see around here?"

"Sure."

"Do you want to be my guide for today?"

Minho flashes a smile.

"I would be honored."

We continue cleaning our plates.

"Why come here in January?" Minho asks after a couple of minutes. "The city is kind of dead at this time of the year."

I take time to think, holding the cup of coffee to my lips. 

"When I bought the tickets, I don't think I fully realized I was coming here. So I picked up dates that were far enough I could still dream about it, and close enough that it would seem real... I guess I'm a man of paradoxes."

"I get it," says Minho. "Sometimes, it helps to have something a little dreamy but also concrete to hold on."

"Yeah... But to be honest, it was kind of a dick move too..."

Minho frowns as I continue:

"Tomorrow is Jaebum's birthday. If we had been together still, I would have left him alone for his birthday."

I take a sip of coffee.

"Technically, we used to celebrate our birthdays together around mid-January, somewhere between the 6th, his birthday, and mine, on the 21st. So I would have been back for that party."

I put down the cup on the table. 

"But not for his real birthday. It was a nasty move and part of why I felt guilty to begin with. I think I wanted to hurt him out of anger... And I think I did..."

There is a silence. I dare a glance to see Minho's expression. He just looks at me with a concerned face.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to bring him up..."

I force a little smile and redirect the conversation:

"It's fine. I brought it up. I also chose January because it was the month with the least chance of rain or snow."

"Why? Don't you like snow?"

"There is plenty of snow six months a year back home. I wanted a small break from that too."

I wink when a smile appears on his face.

~ °°° ~

Leaving the restaurant, we walk onto the Seoul Plaza. Before us, a giant wave of turquoise windows towers behind a Renaissance-style building, as if it's about to engulf it. The late afternoon sun hits the structure, making it sparkle. 

"This is the City Hall," Minho says, pointing at the wave.

I'm in awe.

"It's spectacular."

"It is."

We stroll on the Plaza. There is an ice rink in the middle of the place with lots of people skating. 

"Do you ice-skate?" Minho asks me, as we stop to look at the skaters.

"Not really," I confess.

"You live in Canada and you don't ice-skate?"

"I know how to skate. I just don't like it that much. When I was in boarding school, we had an arena. And every year, time would come when gym classes were ice skating and hockey classes. My mom and I were kind of poor, so she bought me some second-hand ice skates and some hockey gear. The helmet was already a kind of brownish yellow when I got it and I suppose it had been white at one point. We changed the laces on the skates and there were okay. They looked old, the blades were a bit rusty, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. The problem is that I wore them for 5 years in a row. You probably know that feet grow a lot when you're a teenager... I ended up with blisters on my feet and bleeding toes after every class."

"Shit... Why didn't you tell your mom? I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded buying you another pair."

I sigh.

"Well, I guess I didn't want to burden her with that. So I never asked her. At the end of my last year in high school, I started skipping gym classes to focus on music classes instead anyways. Let's say I don't cultivate the fondliest memory of ice skating."

Minho hums.

"You know, it's never too late to change that feeling. The skates here are pretty decent, and I'm sure we can find a pair that fits you."

He pauses.

"Do you want to try?"

I grimace and look at Minho.

"Do _you_ like ice skating?" I ask.

"I like it a lot. There was this ice rink I used to go with my parents and my sister back then. It's been a while, though."

Seeing the sparkles in his eyes, I don't have the guts to say no. Damned be the old blisters. Minho is right; it's better to try to create new positive experiences than to dwell on the bad ones.

"Okay. Let's go."

~ °°° ~

It takes us time to find our balance on the ice, but soon enough, muscle memory kicks in and we start sliding side by side around the ice rink.

"What's your family like?" I ask Minho, after a couple of laps, grabbing the tip of his gloved fingers to help me adjust our speed.

"My mom and my dad live in the outskirts of Seoul. They're both retired now. My dad used to be an accountant. My mom was an elementary school teacher. Since my sister left the house, they mainly bicker each other while taking care of a garden and a dog."

"You have a younger sister?"

"Yes. Danah."

"What is she like?"

"Stubborn, genius, creative. But much more rational and pragmatic than me."

"You're not rational? I thought you were."

He laughs, holding my hand in the curve of the rink.

"I am not. I have a tendency to daydream a little bit too much. Sometimes I make mistakes because of impulsivity. Sometimes I lose opportunities because I'm daydreaming the other way. As a kid, Danah wanted to be an astronaut scientist. I wanted to become an interplanetary pirate. There lies the fundamental difference between us."

I giggle.

"You liked Captain Harlock much?"

"My mom showed me that anime when I was six years old. It instantly became my dream to be this badass space pirate."

"I can see that vibe working for you with your tattoos, your piercings and your punky style. When I was a kid, I was sure I could talk to animals. We didn't have any pets home, so I would spend my free time talking to the stray cats, the birds and the squirrels in the backstreet or at the park."

The air gets colder on my cheeks and my nose.

"You were a loner too then," Minho says in a more serious tone, slowing down his speed as we approach the exit of the rink.

"Has it already been an hour?" I ask, looking at Minho getting off the ice.

"Yes. Time flies when we're having fun."

He smiles at me. I smile back and get off the ice too. I sit on the bench next to him to take off my skates. I give him a slight shoulder bump. 

"Thanks. For making me do this."

"Glad you liked it."

He ruffles my hair slightly, resting his hand on my nape for a second before taking it off. The lingering warmth on my exposed skin makes me want more.

"So, what do you want to do? There's the Seoul Museum of Art around the block. Lots of small galleries too. Maybe you want to grab a coffee?"

What I really want is to take his face between my hands and kiss him. I feel the urge to get closer. But before I can do anything, Minho's phone buzzes. He answers, as he gets up to return the rented equipment. When he comes back, he gives me an interrogative look.

"What is it?" I ask.

"My friends are going clubbing tonight. They invited us to join them. Do you want to go?"

He slightly stutters, searching for his words.

"I would understand if you don't want to. But Jiho and Jihoon will be there, with other nice people."

I take his hand and squeeze it.

"I wouldn't miss a night out with the legendary Three Musketeers of Chaos."

I laugh. He chuckles.

"But I need to go back to my place and get changed," I add.

Minho smiles. 

"No problem. I'll give you a ride."

* * *

**{Minho}**

We decided we would go to Seungyoon's place first so he could get ready. We would eat something there, then leave to get to my place before hitting the club.

I park my bike in front of the building and let Seungyoon get off before I do. When I look back at him, I can see his eyes shining, a smile floating on his lips. He gets closer, takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. 

"I'll call some food so we won't wait too long," I say, entering the lift.

Seungyoon hums. I gesture to take my phone, but his fingers clench on mine. He pushes me gently against the wall, as the door of the elevator closes. My heartbeat accelerates. I feel Seungyoon's breath on my skin as he leans in on me. His nose brushes against mine, and he embraces my lips with his. The kiss is soft and too soon over. Seungyoon rests his forehead on mine, stroking my jaw with his fingers, his other hand still holding mine. He lets out a little chuckle. I want to have more of it, more of these full lips. I bend my head to capture his lips again with mine. My kiss is a bit more fierce. He parts his lips to let my tongue dance with his. My hand slides under his coat, against his damp shirt. I feel his stomach under my fingers, the slight ridges of his abs. A robotic voice tells us we've reached the ninth floor. Seungyoon breaks the kiss, smiles at me, his eyes glazed with pleasure.

"Come," he whispers to me, dragging me through the hallway.

We enter his apartment. 

"You can put your coat in there," he says, pointing at a closet door while kicking off his shoes. 

I hang my coat and turn to him. His cheeks are red, his shirt sticking to his ribs. I put my hand on his forehead.

"Are you okay?"

He smiles at me, puts a light kiss on my lips. 

"Only a little hot from the steamy ride up. I'll go take a shower. You can order food in the meantime. I won't be long."

A tight knot forms in my chest as I catch a glimpse of Seungyoon's bare skin when he gets out of his shirt. I turn to look outside the window while I call up the food. The sun is setting slowly. The neon lights are taking on the streets. 

"Can you close the curtains?" I hear Seungyoon shout from the bathroom.

I take a step back to pull on the heavy curtains. 

"You know the offices in the building on the other side of the street are all vacant, right?" I reply, joking. "It's not like anyone is gonna see you..."

I feel a hand circling my torso, finding its way under my shirt, nails softly grazing the skin of my stomach.

"I would prefer if we're the only ones enjoying the moment. Who knows, maybe there's a guy with a pair of binoculars just waiting for the show..."

Seungyoon's moist lips close on my earlobe. A jolt of desire hits my groin when his hand descends to grab the buckle of my pants. I swiftly turn around to be stunned by the sight of a naked Seungyoon, a towel wrapped around his waist, water still pearling on his skin. His hands slip under my shirt and quickly pass it over my head. He tugs on my belt, pulling me against him. Our skin touch and I feel alive. Seungyoon nuzzles his face in my neck. I sense his tongue run from my shoulder to a sensitive spot behind my ear. I shiver under his kiss. I pull his hair back, lifting up his head and I kiss his parted plump red lips. There is so much lust in his gaze when he moans, I feel I could come only by watching him moan like that on repeat. As a response, he bites my lower lip a little bit harder, making it my turn to moan in our kiss. I grab his ass and lift him up to the bed. The towel falls off on the way, revealing Seungyoon's body in all his glory. He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye, chewing on his lips, making them even redder than they already are. I undo my belt, strip off my jeans and I lean on him, tracing with the tips of my fingers all his body lines I imagined while painting this morning. His hands lock behind my neck, and he pulls me into a deeper kiss. My hands move down to hold his waist as I feel his groin rubbing against my briefs. 

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, that's right, I ordered food."

Seungyoon's arms fall on the mattress as he looks at me with a smirk. I pick up the towel on the floor and put it around my waist, before opening the door to pay the delivery guy, trying to look super casual. When I close the door with the bags in my hands, I hear Seungyoon's laugh.

"I thought you were already eating something you liked..."

I drop the bags on the counter and fall back on the bed next to a smiling Seungyoon.

"I was. But how about you? Don't you want real food?"

"Not really," he answers, pulling me for a long kiss. "I'm happy with what I have right here."

I smile against his lips, as I get on top of him. His fingers trace a path across the tattoos on my skin. My underwear, the only piece of clothing between us, is getting wet from our combined precum. I pull it off in a hasty move, hungry to feel his hard rod on mine. Our kisses become more urgent. I am totally lost in lust. All I ever wanted is right there under me and I can't believe I am tasting the sweat of his glorious body. My heart seems like it's about to explode. When he begins to stroke us both with his left hand, his other hand scratches its way down my back to grab my ass. I roll to the side and pull him in another passionate kiss as we explore each other's body. His grip on my cock tightens, I shut my eyes and I come hard between our stomachs.

I slowly catch my breath and open my eyes. Seungyoon is lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. I look at his cock; it fell soft on the side of his thigh. I look back at Seungyoon's face, concerned by the shimmer in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. I thought I could do this... but obviously I can't."

I put my hand on his shoulder. His skin is cold. I draw in the covers over him, pulling him in a hug. 

"It's okay. Everything is fine."

He starts crying in my arms. 

"I thought it would be just like ice skating. You know, muscle memory."

I wipe the tears on his cheeks, gently rocking him.

"But I am a mess. I can't do this. Not tonight."

"I get it. It's okay, Seungyoon. It's okay."

I kiss the top of his head.

"I like you, Seungyoon. Like I never liked someone in a long long time. I want to be with you. To be there for you. You're not alone, okay?"

His body is shaking like a leaf.

"I... I like you too, Minho... a lot," Seungyoon manages to say in between two sobs.

I pull him closer in the sheets.

"Then, there is absolutely no reason to rush things."

His tears slowly stop as his body relaxes against mine. 


	16. Remember (Day 3)

**Sunday, January 6 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

I wake up past noon, feeling hollow. I sit in a cocoon of blankets, and turn to find Minho asleep on the other side of the bed, facing the wall, with only a small sheet covering his lower back. The four Hangeul syllables on his shoulder blade taunt me, as they go up and down following Minho's soft breathing. 

_Clear mind._

My mind is far from clear.

I slowly get up, placing the blankets on Minho. He whimpers and turns on his stomach, still in deep slumber. I search for my clothes on the floor, only to find them carefully folded on the desk. I look around as I put on my sweatpants and a shirt. The room looks like nothing happened last night. He must have tidied the place up while I was asleep. The food we didn't touch is in the fridge. My phone is plugged. The yellow phone too. As quietly as possible, I open the case of my old phone. The SIM card is not there. I press on the screen of the other phone, and I see the signal icon. I glance at the sleeping silhouette in the bed. He even switched my phone. I scroll through the address book in the yellow phone. All my contacts were transferred with the SIM card. I lightly sigh and put on my boots to get us coffee at the convenience store.

Why am I so angry?

As I wait for the coffee machine to brew two Americanos, I rest my forehead on the wall, trying to analyze this growing feeling inside me.

I shouldn't have acted on my impulses, and as much as I'm ashamed and angry at myself, I should be careful not to take my anger out on him. I don't want to torpedo this thing, but why am I feeling like I'm on the verge of doing something really stupid?

Do I really want to invest myself in a new relationship? I remember his embrace last night. The comfort I felt. But at the same time I never felt this vulnerable with him. And I hate it.

It's January 6th. Jaebum's birthday.

I'm sad, and I'm confused as hell.

I pay for the coffees, while also taking a pack of unknown cheap cigarettes and a box of matches. I stopped smoking a couple of weeks ago, but I feel I'll need that nicotine back in my system. I go outside, put the cups on a bench and light a cigarette. It's different. It doesn't taste much to be honest, but it scratches my throat and that's all that matter to me right now.

Where does this confusion come from?

When I get back up with the coffees, Minho is stretching in the bed. 

"Your phone is buzzing," he says, yawning.

I check my phone. I missed a call from my mom.

"Yeah, it's my mom," I say, unable to look at him directly. "Thanks by the way... for the phone."

I sit on the edge of the bed.

"Got you a coffee. Didn't know how you take it, so I got you an Americano without sugar."

"Thanks," he says, taking the cup. "That's about how I take it."

There is an awkward silence.

"How are you?"

I avoid his gaze, focusing on the cup in my hands. My tone is flat when I answer:

"Not great."

My phone buzzes. I get up. It's a text message from my mom.

_Miyoung says you can go to see them this afternoon. Here's the address. They're looking forward to seeing you. Love you xx_

I sit back on the bed.

"Do you want to talk?" Minho asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. I slip out of his touch as I give him a side glance.

"There are some things I need to do today... alone..."

Minho's hand that was still hesitating in mid-air somewhere above my shoulder just drops on his lap. He hums as he gets off the bed and begins to dress.

"Okay. That's my cue, I guess."

A knot tightens in my throat. I can see he's hurt, but he tries to hide it behind a false smile.

I take his wrist between my fingers as he puts on his coat. He looks at me and, for the first time in all morning, I look him in the eyes. I can see the hinge of pain in his expression.

"I'm sorry, Minho. I... I... just don't feel like myself... right now."

"It's fine. I get it. Call me if who want or need anything, okay?"

His voice sounds colder than usual. He hesitates for a second, then leaves a kiss on my forehead, before exiting the apartment. I hear his footsteps echo in the hallway.

~ °°° ~

"Hey, it's me. You're probably sleeping right now. Please call me back when you get this."

It's the third time I try to call Jinwoo, in vain. I wander in the narrow streets of Mapo-gu. It's almost 2PM. I spotted Miyoung and Sanghoon's little house a while ago. I immediately remembered the white exterior walls and the faded pink fence. I just couldn't get myself to ring the doorbell, so I walked a couple of blocks to evacuate my stress. My palms are sweaty. I am nervous beyond reason. My phone rings. It's Hoon.

"Is everything alright? I saw you called Jinwoo. He's actually sick, caught a cold yesterday."

"Oh, is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's sleeping like a princess under a hundred blankets. Don't worry."

I chuckle softly.

"So, what's up with you?" he asks.

I let out a long sigh.

"I think I did something stupid."

"What happened?"

"It's Minho... I kind of made a move I regret doing..."

"Let me guess. You regret sleeping with him, or kicking him out this morning?"

Hoon's foresight stops me in my tracks.

"How do you know...?"

"Don't worry. Jinwoo did the same thing to me the first time we _accidentally_ slept together," answers Hoon, chuckling. "No one's hurt?"

"I think I hurt his feelings. And I'm a mess myself..."

"Well, I don't think it's some severe damage, then."

"I'm so confused, Hoony. I thought it was the jet-lag, but I woke up this morning thinking about calling Jaebum for his birthday. Then realize I don't have his phone number anymore. And then realize someone else is asleep next to me. And that I cried all night in the arms of that man, and that he even cleaned my room while I was sleeping. I feel like shit."

Hoon laughs on the other side of the line.

"Oh, so he's that type of guy... Jinwoo's going to like him."

The comment makes me giggle.

"See, I made you laugh."

He takes a softer tone.

"Stay strong, Yoon. It's not easy to go through a breakup like that. And you're going to make mistakes along the way. It's normal. Do you trust Minho?"

"Yes, I do."

"Would you confide in him?"

"I already did. Multiple times. He's easy to talk to."

"Is he receptive?"

"He is. In fact, he's so caring, it makes me feel bad. I feel weak, and I hate that."

Hoon's voice becomes more serious.

"Yoon, don't be impulsive and don't shut anyone out because you're scared or angry. Talk to him."

"What did you do to win back Jinwoo after your first night?"

He snorts.

"I didn't have the time to do anything. He came back to see me at my job and apologized for kicking me out without even giving me a cup of coffee. Then he made out with me in my office, but that's another story. We were settled."

I chuckle.

"Talk to him, Yoon. I know you're hurt, but take your time and don't let your ego destroy something that can be beneficial for you."

"I will, Hoon. Thank you. Take care of Jinwoo. And be careful not to catch his cold."

"Don't worry, I won't. Take care."

We hang up, and I stop my pace in front of the pink faded fence.

~ °°° ~

Miyoung's face glows when she welcomes me with open arms. She hugs me. Her body is frail against mine. Her perfume is the same as I remember from my childhood memories.

"Seungyoonie, look at you! You're so big! When did you grow up like that?"

Years put some fine lines in the corner of her eyes, of her mouth. Grey locks shine in her hair. But she is still the same caring Miyoung. My mom's best friend. She may not be my real aunt, but she is still my little auntie.

Sanghoon appears in the door frame, shakes my hand. 

"Our Seungyoon is a man now."

I smile shyly.

"It's been a long time. I am happy to see you both."

"How old are you now?" Asks Miyoung, dragging me in the kitchen.

"I'll soon be 26 years old," I answer, lost in my thoughts as I look around.

The small house is about the same as I remembered. The long corridor leading to the kitchen. The wooden stairs going up to the rooms. The flower wallpaper in the kitchen. 

"Time flies so quickly," says Miyoung, gesturing me to sit down at the kitchen table while taking out food from the refrigerator.

Sanghoon sits in front of me. He also took the toll of the last years. I always knew he was older than his wife, but it's a shock seeing him with his head lined with a few rare snow-white hairs, his sagging cheeks and wrinkles deepening his features.

"Are you still studying?" He asks.

"No, I finished my degree a couple of years back."

Miyoung comes to the table, putting little plates of different food before me. She rests her hand on my head, patting my hair.

"Your mother told me you opened a business?"

I nod.

"Yes, with a friend. A record store in Toronto."

"Oh, that's right you left Vancouver. Your mom told me that," says Miyoung, sitting down too.

She puts her hand on mine. Her fingers are long and pale, her glassy nails are well manicured.

"And do you have a special someone?"

I chuckle shyly.

"No, I don't."

"Why? A fine young man like you. With these beautiful eyes."

"Mimi, stop embarrassing the boy," Sanghoon intervenes, laughing. "Let him enjoy his young years before he's old like us! No rush to settle."

Miyoung smiles at me.

"Eat, eat, Seungyoonie. You lost all your cheeks. Eat more."

I giggle, starting to eat the dishes she served me.

"How long are you going to stay, Seungyoon?" Asks Sanghoon.

"I'm leaving on Friday," I manage to say in between two mouthfuls of rice.

"So soon?" Exclaims Miyoung. "Where are you staying?"

"In Jung-gu. I rented a place near Dongdaemun."

Miyoung puts her hand on mine again.

"Do you have food? I'll give you food before you leave."

I bow my head a little.

"Thank you, Miyoung auntie."

She gets up.

"I found some pictures for you. When your mother told me you were coming, I searched in my things..."

"She literally turned our room upside down, rummaging through all the old boxes," says Sanghoon, winking at me.

"I'll go get them. I think you'll like what I found."

Miyoung struts out of the room in her slippers.

"We're really happy to see you Seungyoon," says Sanghoon. 

I look at him. Sanghoon was the only thing resembling a father figure in all my younger years. I can't help but feel guilty, the man I remembered being so strong now looking like an old man. 

"I'm so sorry, Sanghoon, for the past thirteen years I spent not seeing you. And for my moody teenager's attitude the last times I was here..."

He chuckles.

"It's okay, Seungyoon. Being a teenager is not easy. Especially when you're spending all your summer with old people in another country instead of being with your friends back home. You don't have to apologize for that."

"I feel like I've cut you out of my life. And I missed you. You're my family."

Sanghoon smiles. 

"If you tell Miyoung what you told me, you'll make her cry. Be careful."

Miyoung comes back with a small red photobook.

"I put all these old pictures together. I thought you might like to have them."

I flip through the plastic pages. Pictures of baby me, of my mom when she was younger, birthday pictures with Miyoung and Sanghoon. Towards the end of the booklet, there is a photo with my mom holding a baby (I guess it's me), in front of a flower shop. A man and a woman stand next to her. I don't recognize any of them. I point at the picture.

"Who are they? Are they mom's parents?"

I lift my eyes to catch a silent exchange of looks between Miyoung and Sanghoon. Sanghoon talks first:

"They're your grandparents."

"Your father's parents," adds Miyoung.

I suddenly feel dizzy looking at the faded faces on the photography. 

"This was taken a few months after you were born. It's your mom's shop in Busan. You know, your mom lost her parents when she was studying, so she had to take care of the family business while finishing her degree. She met your father during those years, and she became pregnant. Your father stayed a couple of months, helping her with the flower shop, but he was called for his military service soon enough. His parents helped your mom a lot during your father's absence. Then, your father finished his service, came back to your mom, but he started messing around, stealing from the shop. And one day, he disappeared. His parents still wanted to help your mom, but she kept her distance."

I take in the story, let it steep. Mom never really told me what happened with my father. I just knew he left us. 

"Are they... still alive?" I ask, hesitantly.

Miyoung hums. 

"Last time I saw your mom, about a year ago, your grandmother still wrote to her. What's her name? I remember she used her maiden name. Lee Soonja? Lee Soonhee? I don't remember."

"You should ask your mom about it," says Sanghoon. "We're talking a lot here, but there are things only your mother knows. If you're curious about your past, you should try to talk to her."

I nod, trying to decipher the face of the lady in the picture under my fingers.

* * *

**{Minho}**

"Dude, you need to chill. It's not the first time you get kicked out after a one-night stand. Don't act like you're offended."

Leaving Seungyoon's place got me in a weird mood. So, after a couple of minutes riding into nowhere, I decided to stop by Jihoon's place to have a friendly talk. Only to stumble on a very hungover Jiho in the kitchen.

"Shut up, hyung. I came here to talk to Jihoon. What are you even doing here?"

"Well, I crashed in his bathtub this morning after you bailed on our boys' night. Too much liquor."

Jihoon comes out of his room, throws a white tank top at the shirtless Jiho sitting at the table, before saying:

"Well, at least you cleaned your puke in the bathroom. That's a first."

Jihoon turns to me. 

"Don't worry, Minho. Things like that happen. Maybe he just needed some time alone."

I light a cigarette. Jiho pushes an empty beer can on the kitchen table. I take a long drag, making the smoke swirl in my mouth. 

"This is so confusing."

I exhale.

"And frustrating... I wish it could be easy. You know, I like him; he likes me. That's it."

"Sometimes, the timing isn't right," says Jiho, taking the cigarette out of my fingers and taking a puff, before rolling it against the top of the beer can, to take off the ashes. "That guy just broke up with a long-time boyfriend. You really want to be a rebound?"

I sigh, taking back my cigarette from Jiho. 

"I don't know. That's the dangerous pitfall to avoid, right? I would be willing to take the risk, but is it worth it?"

"Hey, Minho," says Jihoon, bringing a pot of coffee on the table. "You don't choose the emotional baggage of the people who fall for. Maybe Jiho's got a point. Maybe the timing isn't right. Seungyoon seems to be dealing with a lot of things."

I hum, blowing in the cup in front of me before pouring some coffee in it. Jiho gestures me to give him the almost finished cigarette. I give him the butt, taking another stick to light up for myself. 

"I mean, you know me, guys. I spent the last years running around, fucking people without even leaving a phone number. I didn't care."

I lean on my elbows, looking at my reflection in the black coffee in my cup.

"You all told me I should calm down, take the time to assert the fact that maybe something was wrong with the way I foster relationships since I came back from Paris."

I lift my gaze on Jihoon.

"You, Jihoon, you were the first one to tell me I had severe trust issues. That I should work on that. But guess what, for the first time in ages, I trust someone. I like him. I want to open up to him. I want to let him in my life."

I sigh, after taking a drag of my cigarette.

"But I don't think he wants me to be part of his."

"Maybe he just doesn't know how to do that, Minho," says Jihoon. "If he's interested, he'll come around. And from what I heard from you, looks like you mean a little something for him too."

I drink the last sip of my coffee. I get up.

"Yeah, well, I'd better get home. It's already late, and I haven't fed Johnny yet. She's going to murder me in my sleep."

"Like any respectable cat would do," jokes Jiho.

"Thanks for the talk and the coffee."

I hop on my bike and ride to my flat, only two blocks away. Contrary to my expectations, Johnny isn't mad. She is sleeping on the couch when I enter the apartment. I take her in my arms. She rubs her whiskers on my chin. I walk to my art room, open some lights as the sun is already setting outside. I sit on the floor, patting Johnny's fur. After a moment of my absent-minded belly rubbing, she seems to have enough and sinks her teeth in my hand as she gets up to hide behind my paintings lying against the walls.

I stroke the red spot where she bit me as I look at the last piece I worked on. From any exterior perspective, this would probably look like an abstract painting. To me, it shows the deconstructed lines, outlines and boundaries of what was just a mere fantasy only a day ago. I'm surprised I used so much cool tones to express the feelings I had when I painted this. And even though the color blue brings back its share of sad memories, this painting gives me another vibe, a very calming one. 

My phone beeps. I take it out of my pocket. 

_You told me once in Hawaii that you used to ride your bike from Seoul to Busan. Do you want to go on a road trip with me?_


	17. The Way to Busan pt.1 (Day 5)

**Monday, January 7 th**

**{Minho}**

I am already up making myself a coffee when my alarm clock rings. That's a rare thing, but excitement made me spring out of my bed after a few hours of deep sleep, feeling refreshed and full of energy. Johnny is sleeping on the couch, between two cushions, not suspecting I'm leaving her again. This time, I managed to convince Jihoon to feed her and keep her company while I'm gone. Calculating in my head the itinerary from Seoul to Busan, I bring the cup of coffee to my lips.

_"You know it's going to be a long trip, right? We're talking about at least a 8-hour ride," I said, calling Seungyoon after getting his text message._

_He seemed to hesitate on the phone._

_"I thought it was like a 5-hour drive or something..."_

_I snorted._

_"Maybe by car. But if you want us to ride my bike, we won't be allowed to take the highway."_

_"Oh..."_

_He sounded disappointed._

_"Well, in that case, I'll understand if you don't want to go..."_

_"I do. I do. It should be fine."_

_"I'll take some of the driving! We'll alternate."_

_I chuckled._

_"Do you think you'll be okay? Roads here are not the same as what you're used to."_

_"I'll manage. And you'll help me navigate, right?"_

_"Okay. Deal. How long do you need to stay in Busan?"_

_"Not long. Maybe a day, half a day. I don't know."_

_"Okay, so we'll have to sleep there at least one night. When do you want to leave?"_

_"I'll look for a backpacker hostel or something online. Can we leave tomorrow?"_

_I laughed._

_"Wow, okay. Sure, it can be done. But why are you so eager to go to Busan all of a sudden?"_

_"Let's say I learned a lot today... and I want to find someone in Busan. I'll tell you the whole story tomorrow on the way."_

_"Okay, no problem. So, I'll pick you up around 6:30 tomorrow morning. Be ready to meet me downstairs. And dress warm, but don't wear a long coat. It's not a good fit on a long bike ride..."_

_Seungyoon hesitated again._

_"I only brought my long wool coat... I don't have any short jacket..."_

_I hummed, thinking._

_"I might have something that I could lend to you. I'll bring it tomorrow, don't worry."_

_"Okay. Thanks! And listen... about this morning... I shouldn't have made you leave like that. I felt like shit. But it wasn't okay to make you feel like shit either. I'm sorry."_

_"It's fine, Seungyoon. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight."_

I am actually relieved that Seungyoon called me. I was afraid he would just disappear, ghost me or something. My heart tightens in my chest just to think it could have been a possibility. I leave my cup of the sink, and I go to my room, browsing through my closet to finish packing my bag and to find my old bomber jacket so Seungyoon wouldn't suffer any frost damage from the long ride ahead of us. I quickly feel the texture of leather under my touch, and I tug on it to remove the jacket from the wardrobe. I had it through college, and even though the leather on its sleeves is a little torn, it's still quite warm. I loved that jacket so much. It was sleeping in my teenage room at my parents' place, and I only found it again when I came back empty-handed from Paris and rummaged through my old stuff to refurnish my new apartment.

When I finish packing my luggage case on my bike, keeping the second helmet and the jacket close enough to reach, I start the engine and leave in the early morning. The streets are empty. I only see a few people waiting for buses and some lonely cars. I park my motorbike outside Seungyoon's apartment building, and call him on his phone. It rings several times before he answers.

"Hey you," Seungyoon says, in a sleepy voice.

"Hey. Did I wake you? I know I'm a little early..."

Seungyoon snorts.

"I'm okay. I took my shower some time ago and I was tempted to fall back asleep in bed, that's all."

"I'm downstairs. Do you want me to come up? Help you pack your things?"

I hear him softly breathe in my ear like he's taking a second to think.

"Nah, it's okay. I'll be down in 5 minutes. Did you bring the jacket?"

"I did. I have it in my hands as we speak."

"Okay, I'm coming."

Seungyoon appears in the lobby of the building a couple of minutes later, wearing a hoodie, a soft beanie and a yellow scarf. A big smile pops on his face when he sees me. I join him inside and help him put on the jacket. The sleeves are a tad short, but with the hoodie underneath, it looks fine. 

"Didn't realize you had such long arms," I say, jokingly.

"Yeah, I have long legs too."

"Yes, I noticed that," I reply with a smirk.

"I'm sure you did."

Seungyoon comes closer and puts his hands on my chest. 

"I'm sorry again. For yesterday."

The look on his face reveals the sincerity of his words. He leans in to give a soft kiss on my lips.

"And thank you for helping me on this quest."

His kiss leaves me a little speechless, but it comforts me, chasing away my doubts. I stroke his cheek, adjusting his scarf. Maybe this can work.

"My pleasure."

I take his hand and drag him to the motorbike where I pack his bag in the luggage case.

"I'll drive first," I say, lending him the helmet. "Then, when we get on the smaller country roads, we'll switch, okay?"

Seungyoon nods, smiling. I sit on the bike, and I feel him set himself behind me, his arms circling my waist. I start the engine and we're off.

Riding so early in the morning is such a peaceful experience. And riding to get out of town also gives a marvelous feeling of adventure.

"Have you ever seen the countryside?" I ask, yelling in my helmet to Seungyoon's head resting on my right shoulder.

The wind whistles in my ear, but I hear Seungyoon's answer.

"I don't think I ever did. Only ever known the two big cities..."

The rest of his sentence gets lost in the surrounding noise.

"You'll like it."

I don't know if he heard me, but his grip tightens around my stomach.

~ °°° ~

We've been riding for two hours when we reach a less populated area. Fields on each side of the road extend beyond our gaze, overlooked by a misty blue mountain range. I feel the cold air piercing through my clothes. I'm thirsty and my legs wouldn't say no to a little bit of stretching. It's been a while since I did some distance on my bike and I feel I'll soon regret this once the pain hit my muscles. I slow down to stop on the side of the road. Seungyoon's gloved hands leave the pockets of my jacket where they were hiding this whole time. I feel a sense of loss when he gets off the bike, the warmth of his body leaving a ghostly sensation on my back. My legs are wobbly as I take a few steps in the snowy grass, taking off my helmet.

"There is snow here," Seungyoon softly says, in a whisper. 

The contrast between the loud noise of the ride and the silence of the fields is uncanny. I turn to look at Seungyoon. Mist floats around his face as he exhales. All I see are his shining eyes and his redden cheeks between the rim of his hat and his scarf covering his lower face.

"Are you cold?" I ask, walking towards him. 

He shakes his head. 

"No, I'm fine."

He pulls his scarf down on his chin.

"It's good to breathe some fresh air."

I take a water bottle out of the luggage case and drink a big gulp. I give the bottle to Seungyoon.

"So, you want to brief me in?"

Seungyoon looks at the mountains in a distance. 

"You know I told you I've never seen my father, right?"

"Yeah. You told me he left you and your mom when you were born."

"Yeah, well, I went to see my aunt and my uncle yesterday. I hadn't seen them in almost fourteen years. And my aunt told me I still had some family in Busan. My father's parents."

"Oh... And you want to see them?"

"I phoned my mom last evening. Talked to her for hours. She told me the last time she had news from my grandmother was about a year ago. Said she's a widow now and owns a sewing shop. She must be really old... I don't even know if the information I have is still valid. My mom gave me an address, the one she used to write back to my grandmother a couple of years ago. But I won't lie; I'm going a little blind here."

Seungyoon shakes his head down. The crease between his eyebrows shows under his hat, the same expression he used to wear when I met him in Hawaii.

"What is it?" I ask, stroking his back.

He takes out a pack of cigarettes from his hoodie and lights up a smoke. I chuckle.

"So much for enjoying the fresh air, right?"

He lets out a small laugh. I pat my coat to find my cigarettes. Seungyoon gives me a push with his elbow, gesturing me to take his already lit cigarette. 

"We'll share if you want. We'll smoke less that way."

"Fine by me," I say, taking the stick from his fingers and bringing it to my lips. "Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

Seungyoon sighs.

"I feel guilty getting on a quest to find the mother of my estranged father when I haven't seen my own mom in almost a year. Seeing Miyoung and Sanghoon yesterday gave me the same feeling."

He looks up at the white sky above our heads.

"I've pushed myself away from family and loved ones these past years. In Toronto, I only had three friends: Jinwoo, Seunghoon and Jaebum. And that's it. I used to visit Jaebum's family, sometimes I would go out with his friends, but I realized that I left my mom and all my other friends in Vancouver. That I stopped seeing my family in Seoul when I was a teenager because I wanted to spend my summer with Jaebum instead of coming here."

He pauses, taking the cigarette from me and inhaling a long drag.

"I don't want to blame him for everything. I'm the one who made these choices. I'm the one who closed those doors. But I can't help but be angry when I think about all that."

"We do stupid things when we're in love. I get that. I've been there. I've cut myself from my friends just to spend more time with the person I loved the most. I didn't even realize I was doing it. It just happened. And it hurt like hell too when she left me. But sometimes, it takes a heartbreak to make you realize you miss the people you left behind. And they are not lost forever. I think you're doing the right thing, mending the broken bridges. It's part of being an adult too."

I stroke his fingers while taking back the cigarette. There are only a few drags left. 

"Damn, it's hard," he says. "But I think you're right..."

We stay silent for a brief moment. I butt out the cigarette, then pat Seungyoon's head. 

"Are you up for some driving?"

Seungyoon flashes a smile, as he puts on his helmet.

"Sure! Where do I go?"

"Just follow this road. When we'll get to a crossing in about a hundred kilometers, take the path to the right."

He gives me an indecisive look.

"Don't worry," I say, winking at his clueless expression. "I'll be right behind you."

He smiles, closes the visor of his helmet and hops on the bike. I take place behind him, scoot my ass forward on the seat to close the gap between our bodies. My legs tighten on the frame of the bike. It's also been a while since I rode on the second seat. I slide my hands under his jacket to rest them in the front pocket of his hoodie. Seungyoon starts the engine and we continue our trip.

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

Minho was right. Riding a bike here doesn't feel the same. The road is smooth, the air tastes different. Maybe it's because his motorcycle is bigger than mine, but I feel more steady, less nifty. Fortunately, we don't come across many other vehicles, so I stick to the right lane and hope I don't have to do some more complicated maneuvers. I keep my eyes on the road, but I feel compelled to look at the gorgeous scenery. I've never seen what Korea looked like outside of Seoul, or even Busan. I've always associated my birth country with skyscrapers, big malls and streets full of cars and buses. It never came to my mind that it was much more than that. I feel one of Minho's hands leave the pocket of my hoodie as the other grips harder on my ribs. He leans in on my shoulder and points right before us. 

"We'll reach the forking path in a minute," I hear him yell. "Take the right path. We'll stop in the next town."

Has it already been that long yet? Time really flew by. The sun is piercing the snow clouds above us, letting some clear blue sky show. I take the right path at the crossing and continue for some time yet before we reach a gas station at the entry of what looks like a small town.

"You can stop here," Minho says.

I park the bike and cut the engine.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking around.

"Somewhere near Jeonju. We're a little far west, but I know a way to reach Busan without taking the highway. We still have about four hours of travel in front of us."

"What time is it?"

"Around noon. Are you hungry?"

My stomach grumbles. 

"I am."

He grabs my arm. 

"Then let's go. We'll have a look around to find something to eat."

We walk towards the main street. Small shops are open. People are casually talking to each other on the sidewalk. Minho takes me to what looks like a snack bar or a canteen. The walls are white, filled with pictures of ramyun, tteokbokki, jajangmyeon and other plates I don't recognize. The tables are covered with plastic cloths. A smiling lady greets us.

"Are you passing through town?" The kind lady asks us as we take seats. 

"We are," answers Minho. "It is a beautiful town."

He gives her his most charming smile and I feel almost jealous. She smiles back at him, flustered.

"What pretty eyes you have! We don't get to see new faces around here. It's always a blessing."

She puts menus on the table.

"I'll bring you something to drink. Take your time to look at the menu. I'll be right back."

When she goes back to the kitchen, I bite my lower lip, smirking at Minho.

"Didn't know you were into ajummas," I whisper.

He looks at me, playfully tugging at his piercing with his teeth.

"You're just jealous."

I laugh, just as the lady comes back with colas on a tray. 

"And what will you be eating today, gentlemen?"

Minho looks at me.

"I was thinking about spicy cheese tteokbokki. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply, opening the cola can in front of me.

"Okay, so tteokbokki it is. Won't be too long," says the waitress, going back to the kitchen to give the order to the chef.

I take a sip of my drink, tilting my head on my shoulder, looking at Minho's smiling at me.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the view."

I chuckle, feeling my cheeks get red.

"Not you! It's the tteokbokki picture behind you that makes me salivate. You know I'm into ajummas anyway."

I do my best offended face while kicking him under the table.

"How dare you?"

Minho takes my hand, glances at the kitchen to see if nobody's looking at us and kisses my fingers. His eyes are telling me lots of things right now, and I feel my chest burning. 

"You'll always be the prettiest ajumma," he says, smirking.

I laugh, snapping my hand out of his grasp. 

"You're the worst."

We both laugh whole-heartedly while the boiling bowl of tteokbokki arrives at the table. 

~ °°° ~

After lunch, we walk back to the gas station, with our full bellies and our mouths on fire. Those tteokbokki were another kind of spicy. Far from the ones I could ever eat in Koreatown back in Toronto. Minho takes my hand and, as we stroll on the sidewalk, I feel like all the laughter of our last conversations melt away. The clear light of the winter sun, the cold air entering my lungs, the slightly rough texture of the skin of his fingers intertwined with mine, it seems so painfully real all of a sudden. I sense a hint of anxiety piercing through my mind. I need to assert this. It can't stay just like that. I stop Minho a couple of meters from the bike. I look at his hand in my hand; I pass my fingers alongside his knuckles. 

"Just before we go again..."

My voice cracks.

"I want to be honest with you."

I look at his sudden worried eyes.

"In less than four days, I'll be on a plane flying back home. So I don't know where this thing between us is going. But I don't want to lead you astray. And I don't know if I can start a new relationship, let alone a long-distance one."

Minho stays silent, gazing at me.

"I know that, Seungyoon," he finally says.

"Don't get me wrong. I love our chemistry. I love the flirting. Our conversations feel so natural. I like being able to confide in you."

I pause for a second.

"I like you a lot. Really."

I take his hand to my lips and leave a kiss on his skin. 

"I just don't know where we're going. And it scares me."

Minho smiles, the hand I kissed caresses my jawline.

"I know all that, Seungyoon. And I won't lie; it's keeping me awake some nights."

His fingers trace the line of my lower lip.

"I don't want to hurt you," he adds. "And I don't want to get hurt either."

My lips part under his touch. I want more of this. Always.

"Being with you makes me happy, but it also makes me insecure," I answer. "I know I'll be hurt when I leave."

Minho lifts my chin. His voice is gentle when he asks:

"Do you want us to stop? I'll help you get to Busan and come back, but we'll tone down the flirting and stuff. Would you want that?"

His question and his concern are genuine, but I smirk, meeting his gaze.

"You're asking if I want to friendzone you?"

He smiles, but behind that smile I can see his own insecurity running wild.

"Kind of."

I shake my head slightly, chuckling.

"No. I don't want that."

His features relax into a more confident expression.

"Then, can we just enjoy our time together? See where it leads?"

I nod, giving him a light smile. He adds:

"And I don't know where you heard that, but I didn't get the memo saying we have to end this in four days."

I laugh and walk to the bike, putting on my helmet and lending him his.

"Come on! I'll drive for a couple of hours still. Just to let you digest all those rice cakes in peace."


	18. The Way to Busan pt.2 (Day 5)

**Monday, January 7 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

It's already late afternoon when we stop by another gas station. The wind started howling not long after lunch, bringing the snowy clouds to cover the sun, giving a grey shade to the once-blue sky. While Minho pays for the gas, I take my phone out from the luggage case and go inside the small convenience store to warm up my frozen limbs. Minho is already at the coffee counter preparing hot beverages.

"What's brewing?" I ask.

He turns to look at me, smiling.

"I was about to ask you if you wanted to take a short break and drink a coffee inside before we drive the rest of the distance."

I smile back.

"It's an excellent idea. I don't feel my legs anymore."

Minho puts a lid on the first coffee and gives it to me. 

"You can go sit by the window. I'll join you in a second."

I sit on a plastic chair, facing the storefront window. The sun is almost down. The grey sky is stripped with orange light piercing through the dark clouds. In the distance, I see the city lights, proving me that, despite all the kilometers covered across the countryside, we would soon find the rhythm of the big cities again. There is already a lot more cars passing by the gas station, and I am quite relieved to know Minho will drive the rest of the way to Busan. I take a sip of my coffee. Its bitterness warms me up as I feel the hot liquid flow down my throat. I take a second sip, scrolling through the notifications on my phone.

"Anything interesting?" asks Minho when he sits down next to me. 

I lift my gaze to meet his.

"I haven't looked at my phone since this morning. I was actually searching for the address of the hostel I booked, but I got distracted by a picture of my dog."

I show him a picture of Jinwoo sleeping, surrounded by all the pets, including Thor.

"My friend Jinwoo caught a cold this week. Needless to say, he became an animal magnet."

Minho laughs. 

"Yeah, animals tend to sense when we need comfort."

I zoom in on the face of my puppy nuzzled against Jinwoo's arm.

"That's my baby Thor."

"He's cute. Looks so soft."

"He is," I reply, smiling. "You know, I do think animals sense when you need them. When I broke up with Jaebum, I spent a week at Jinwoo and Hoony's house. And each night, when I was feeling weak, sad and low, the cats and Hoony's dog would join me on the couch, bringing me comfort and peace. It made me want to adopt a dog. And that's how I met Thor."

I take off my fingers from the screen, and the photo shows the whole portrait again. God, Jinwoo looks awful.

"By the way, if you ever get to meet Jinwoo, don't ever tell him I showed you this picture."

Minho chuckles. 

"I promise I won't."

"Wouldn't even be surprised if he calls off the wedding should he ever learn his boyfriend took this photo."

"Your friends, you seem to like them a lot."

I turn my head to Minho. He looks outside at the cars passing by.

"I'm an only child, right? Jinwoo and Hoon are the closest thing I have to siblings now. I love them like my brothers."

He hums in a very soft tone.

"You often talk about them, and you speak of them with such warmth in your voice. I can see they're very important to you."

"Yeah, they are. I feel that I have been quite intrusive in their lives recently with the breakup. They were more than present for me and they listened to me without any judgment."

A slight smile floats on Minho's lips when he says:

"It sounds a lot like my relationship with Jihoon when I came back to Seoul. I used to have these impulses to call my ex, tell her things I heard or saw that made me think of her. But I didn't have her phone number anymore and I didn't really want to talk to her anyway. It was not even a conscious move, I think. And I would feel so confused and sad. When I told this to Jihoon, he told me to call him anytime I had the urge to call Louise, just so I would be able to share with him what I had on my mind. He spent entire nights listening to me talking, crying, hurting. And slowly, I got better. I was lucky to have such a good friend. I don't know if I could do the same as he did... Be as devoted, as selfless..."

His voice fills up with emotions. Gazing at his side profile, I can see a tear sparkling in his eye.

"I think you're doing quite well already," I say, taking his hand in mine on the table. "You help me a lot. You know, during those weeks when I was alone, you kept me away from dwelling on my sorrow. Seeing you via video calls, talking to you, even just texting you really brought me joy."

I see a glimpse of a smile forming on Minho's lips. I lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, right on the spot where his smirk draws some fine lines at the border of his lips.

"Did you finish your coffee?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

Minho chuckles and nods.

"Yeah, I talked too much. It's cold now. Let's go. Do you have the address of the hostel?"

I scroll on my phone and show him the reservation. He marks it in his GPS.

"We'll be there in an hour, maybe an hour and a half," he says. 

He gets up and, as I'm getting up, putting back my hat and closing my jacket, he leans over me and kisses me softly. I feel his tongue caressing my upper lip.

"It's not fun if you're the only one stealing kisses all the time," he says, taking my hand and dragging us in the cold again.

* * *

**{Minho}**

We arrived in Busan in the evening. When we check in at the hostel, we are greeted by a smiling brown-haired girl at the reception.

"Hi! My name is Jisoo. Welcome to the Backpacker's Star Hostel. Do you have a reservation?"

I let Seungyoon complete the check-in while I look around. Sounds of pots and pans jammed together, laughter and shouts emerge from the shared kitchen. Seems like there is a lot going on in there. Next to the reception is a small living room where a few armchairs and a sofa circle a lit fireplace. Seungyoon joins me in the lobby.

"Our room is on the last floor," he says, picking up his bag and passing in front of me to climb up the stairs.

I pick up my bag too and follow him, trying not to be too distracted by the shape of his ass swaying a few centimetres off my face. My legs are sore from the ride, making the way up to the room quite painful. I stop in between two flights of stairs, and look at Seungyoon way ahead of me. Is this guy not feeling the same pain as I am? After almost 12 hours of travel? He turns around to smirk at me from above.

"Why are you so far? Weren't you enjoying the closer view?"

A jolt of desire shocks me from inside. Was he swaying that ass on purpose? That guy will be the death of me. Seungyoon stops me on the second floor.

"Since everybody is downstairs, if you want to take a shower, you can take the shower on this floor," he says. I'll use the other one next to the room.

I think the fatigue caught up to me, because I just blink for a second and finally nod, before turning to the door marked with a shower icon. Seungyoon grabs my arm.

"You'll be okay? You look exhausted."

I smile.

"I'll be fine. I'll join you in the room in a jiff."

~ °°° ~

When I finish washing up, I enter our room on the third floor. Seungyoon is already there, unpacking his bag. The room is small, but cosy, with a mansard ceiling, two single beds and a coffee table by a window covered by flower curtains. I drop my bag on the floor and let myself fall on the nearest bed, feeling a hundred needles in my calves. 

"I'm exhausted," I let out in a whisper, closing my eyes.

The mattress moves under me as I feel Seungyoon sitting close. I open an eye to find him hovering over me.

"I'm hungry," he simply says. "Let's go out."

I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"You're always hungry."

"Aren't you?"

"I am. But aren't you tired?"

He smiles and lies down next to me, his back against my chest, still in my embrace.

"I am. But I want to walk a bit, see what we can eat. The girl at the reception said the only other guests in here are a bunch of college kids on vacation that rented all the rooms on the second floor."

"I heard them making a ruckus in the kitchen..."

"So usually when I travel on a whim, I eat the food that people leave in the shelves of the shared kitchen."

I laugh. 

"Yeah, I used to do that too. It's a cheap way to find food when you're broke."

"But since that's what the kids already did, we would probably only have bags of tea and some old dusty canned food. And you paid for lunch so it would be kind of a cheap move on my part to feed you with a mouldy can of beans."

I squeeze him in a hug, nuzzling my face in the back of his hair. I leave a kiss on his nape, rubbing my nose against his ear. His hands tighten on my arms. 

"It feels so good," he hushes. "Just being like this with you."

My chest fills up with warmth. I hug him tighter, not wanting to let him go of this embrace.

"But we need to eat, right?"

Seungyoon gestures to get up, but I drag him back to me. He lets out a soft laughter when he drops on the squeaky mattress.

"Can't we just stay like this a little bit more?" I ask.

He turns around to look at me. His face comes in closer and he passes his finger on the ridge of my nose, descending on my upper lip, and stopping on my chin.

"Later. I promise."

And he leans in for a quick kiss and gets up. I watch him fumble in his bag to get another sweater and put it on. It takes me a couple of minutes to mentally appease the apparent bump in my pants, but, when I finally get up and put on my coat, Seungyoon is still searching through his bag. He takes out a picture from a small photobook and gives it to me.

"That's her," he says, pointing the older lady in the photo. "My grandmother. And that's my grandfather, my mom, and I'm somewhere in that ball of linen."

I look at the old picture, the faded colours, the 90s looks, the flower baskets in the background, and baby Seungyoon's little face emerging from the wrapped blanket. I smile. 

"You're lucky to have such a precious picture. My parents never took a lot of pictures of me as a kid. I don't think I could ever find memorabilia like that in my house."

Seungyoon smiles.

"I'm sure your mom has pictures of baby you in a bath. Every mother has at least one picture like that. It's their secret weapon for embarrassing us in front of our newest dates."

I burst in a loud laugh. 

"Okay, you're right. I'm sure she does. And it's my biggest nightmare."

Seungyoon takes back the picture and leaves it on the table alongside the photo album. We make our way down the stairs. The shouts from the kitchen amplify as we descend. I peek through the door frame. The kitchen is an utter mess. A bunch of boys and girls are eating and laughing, sitting directly on the counter or leaning against the walls. I see the girl from the reception chilling with them. I smile at the chaos and follow Seungyoon outside. 

~ °°° ~

Our hungry wandering leads us to the seaside where Seungyoon spots a food cart selling fish cakes and soup. Holding my cup of hot soup under the yellow light of the food stand, my hands slightly shaking from the cold, I look at Seungyoon's twinkling eyes when he tastes the famous Busan fish cakes.

"I remember eating that a lot when I was a kid. Not here exactly. But at the market where my mom used to buy our food. She would always buy me fish cakes to help me get through the boring task of shopping with her. I was a turbulent and difficult child," he adds, jokingly.

"But it seems you can be easily bought with food," I reply with a grin.

He snorts, throwing his empty cup in the trash, and walks away from the food cart. The bright light of the beach lampposts illuminate the sand and the waves that crash on the shore. I watch his silhouette in the night.

"True. It's still the best way to win me over."

"I'll keep that in my mind if I ever need to do that."

Seungyoon turns around and looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face.

"But you already won me over," I hear him reply amidst the sound of the sea.

I slowly catch up to him. 

"And when was that?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

His voice is only a fragile trickle of sound.

"When have I won you over?"

Seungyoon stays silent a moment, his hands in the pockets of my old jacket, his eyes fixed on his boot tracing circles in the sand. 

"I can't answer that," he lets out, suddenly lifting his gaze to meet mine. "Because I don't know exactly when, where or how. I just know you did... somehow."

A sad smile appears on his face. He continues:

"And I'm really not proud to say that, but I do think something happened that day on the beach. You know, in Hawaii... Or maybe it was that night. I know very well I shouldn't have been tempted to cheat on Jaebum that night... But I was."

He pauses, still looking at me.

"I was this close to kiss you. To lead you in a dark corner of the road and make love to you."

He lifts his hand, showing the small space between his index and his thumb.

"This close. But you stopped me, and, for the rest of the week, I thought about what would have happened if you didn't. And even though nothing happened between us two, I still felt like I cheated on Jaebum."

My heart breaks hearing him confess, reminiscing our walk to our hotel rooms that night, Jiho's gaze in the mirror, Jihoon's drunken tale. I don't know if Jaebum told Seungyoon about his encounter with Jiho, but I can't get myself to tell Seungyoon the truth. Not now. Not after what he just said. 

"You shook me that night," I simply say. "You looked so fierce and fragile at the same time. I almost let you in closer. But I don't regret not pushing it further. It wouldn't have been okay." 

Seungyoon comes closer to me.

"That's also what I think..."

His lower lip trembles. I also repress an intense shiver that makes my teeth chatter.

"I'm kind of cold," I say. "Can we walk back to the hostel?"

~ °°° ~

When we get back, the kids are all in the living room. A boy and two girls are strumming their guitars, singing, joined by the others sitting around them, on the floor and on the sofa. I immediately see a spark of interest in Seungyoon's eyes as we take off our shoes. I smile, pushing him a little towards the living room.

"Go listen to them. I'll make us some tea in the kitchen."

He smiles back and enters the room. I go into the kitchen and I am surprised to find it somewhat clean. I find two cups and a kettle. In one of the cupboards, there is a box of Earl Grey tea. Waiting for the water to boil, I lean in the door frame and listen to a strawberry-blonde-haired girl singing a soft ballad. Her voice is delicate and strong as the same time. I can hear the kettle whistling as she finishes her song. I pour the water in the cups and add the tea bags. I'm walking over to the living room when I hear something that makes me stop in the hallway. 

Seungyoon's singing voice, amongst the other voices joined in a chorus.

It's one of the songs he often sings in his performance sets: _Someone Like You_ by Adele. Sang in that rich tone I used to listen in the dark of my room at night. I bring the cups to the center table and sit leg-crossed on the floor, repressing a grin of pain. When he sees me sitting down in front of him, Seungyoon gives me an amused look and smirks, still harmonizing with the blonde-haired girl. When the chorus kicks in, the duet ignites. Seungyoon's eyes close tight and his voice jumps into a strong head voice, and I'm amazed by his ability to show his vocal power while respecting and supporting the girl's voice. When they finish the song, everybody cheers and hoots.

"Your voice is amazing," the singing girl exclaims. "I'm Chaeyoung by the way."

She lends a hand to Seungyoon, smiling. 

"I'm Seungyoon. And this is Minho."

I wave at the girl.

"Nice to meet you guys. This is Lalisa and Jennie. Here are Hanbin, Junhoe, Jinhwan, Jiwon, Donghyuk, Yunhyeong and Chanwoo. And you already met Jisoo. Her parents own this hostel."

Everybody greets us. They're not as young as I first thought. Maybe only a couple of years. They look more like first-year university students than college kids. 

"You're all friends?" asks Seungyoon.

A tall girl with short bobbed black hair smiles at him and answers:

"Yes. We work together in music camps during summer. We usually spent some time during winter to chill together."

"We don't see each other that often," adds a blonde guy holding a guitar. "So it's nice to be able to stay here a few days and spend our time jamming."

"It's the low season, so my parents don't mind that we play here," says Jisoo. "But, please, tell us if we are too loud, we'll try to keep it low."

Seungyoon smiles.

"I think it's really cool that you guys can jam like that. I used to do that in university."

A guy with round glasses and a Band-Aid on his cheek lifts his head to Seungyoon.

"You studied music?" he asks. "What did you specialize in?"

"Classic guitar."

I just lay back against the sofa and listen to the conversation unfolding before me, those kids asking all the questions I asked myself while watching Seungyoon's performance videos. 

"You didn't study in vocals?" asks Chaeyoung, with a dumbfounded face. "Your voice is really powerful."

Seungyoon laughs.

"Lots of people told me that," he answers. "But I never really thought about singing. It came to me when I finished my degree and I needed to find a job. I started playing in a small venue and people like covers, so I started to sing while playing guitar. And I liked it."

"Did you get some coaching?" asks another guy with a deep raspy voice. 

"I did. I got myself a coach to help me get the techniques right. Helped me a lot."

"Can you play something?" the tall girl asks.

She lends Seungyoon her guitar. 

"Sure," he says. "What do you want me to sing?"

The words escape my mouth:

"Play _All of Me_ , by John Legend. I love that cover of yours."

Seungyoon looks at me with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye, while I slowly realize I let the cat out of the bag. He chuckles.

"Okay. My friend Minho here wants me to sing him a love song. Are you okay with that, guys?"

They all cheer and I feel the blood rushing to my ears. I want to disappear in the floor. This guy is evil.

But when I hear the first notes of the song, my heart melts. 

To be brutally honest, I always preferred Seungyoon's cover to the original. I used to argue with Jiho about that, saying that, despite John Legend being a musical genius, Seungyoon's voice brought something new to the song, another depth of realness, pain and longing. Seems like everyone in the room is as hypnotized by Seungyoon as I am. But his eyes are all on me while his fingers strum the strings of the guitar, and I feel a fire building in my body as I hold up his gaze. I can't believe he's actually singing this song. To me. 

When he ends the song, the gang whistles and claps, asking for an encore. But Seungyoon laughs as he gets up on his feet, giving back the guitar to the black-haired girl. 

"Sorry to disappoint you guys. But we rode for 12 hours today and we're exhausted."

He stops in front of me and helps me get up, leading me to the stairs.

"And don't be afraid of making too much noise. We won't hear you upstairs anyway."

We slowly walk up the stairs, hearing the music start again in the living room.

~ °°° ~

"How did you know I used to cover that song?"

I feel Seungyoon's lips move against my jaw.

"I watched all your videos."

His tongue plays with the lobe of my ear.

"You did?"

My hands grip the sheets of the narrow bed when he starts sucking on the skin of my neck. A moan escapes my throat. 

"Multiple times."

His tongue traces my jawline and passes on my Adam's apple. I muffle a moan again.

"Do you like it when I do that?" Seungyoon asks, repeating the movement of his tongue.

I hum in approval as his lips reach mine in a lazy kiss. My fingers intertwine in his hair, deepening the kiss. I break off to breathe.

"You're truly exceptional."

Seungyoon's lips reach for mine again. I growl under his touch. He chuckles.

"Seems like it."

I let out a soft laugh.

"I meant on the stage. When you sing."

Seungyoon rests his head in the palm of his hand and looks at me, smiling.

"Thank you."

I lift my upper body to lean against the frame of the bed.

"You should try to make it a career out of it."

Seungyoon's index starts tracing the outline of my fallen crown tattoo on the side of my stomach.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to gamble the stability I built in my life to pursue that dream."

He leans in to kiss the thin skin on my hip bone. I suddenly get chills all over my body.

"Does it tickle you when I do that?" he asks, leaving another kiss there.

"Nah. Feels good."

I sink into the mattress again, my back sliding on the sheets.

"Would you want to make an album? Just for the thrill of it? You already wrote lots of original songs."

Seungyoon lies on his back next to me, his hands running on his chest as he thinks.

"I could. But, really, who would buy that?"

I turn on the side and rest on my elbow. 

"I would. And probably all the kids downstairs. And people who come to listen to you at your venue. It's a start, isn't it?"

He laughs.

"If that's what you want, I can record my songs and make you a special album just for you."

"You underestimate your talent," I simply say, going down on his stomach to kiss his navel.

He giggles.

"Are you ticklish?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Seungyoon looks down to me, still laughing. 

"I think I am. And it's weird because I'm usually not."

I climb on him, rubbing my chest against his, and I reach for his lips. I feel his heart beat fast, or maybe it's mine.

"Maybe it's because I got the magic touch."

Seungyoon snorts, trapped between my legs.

"That's the cheesiest thing I heard in a long time."

I lean in to kiss him.

"Like I'm the only one saying and doing cheesy things here."

He kisses me back.

"You're the one with all the fuckboy lines," he replies.

I gasp, plunging in the crook of his neck.

"Says the guy who just told me he was _this close_ to fuck me on a deserted beach," I whisper in his ear.

I hear him moan when I lick the base of his neck. I feel his groin rubbing against mine, making me moan in my turn. I fall to the side, facing Seungyoon. I kiss him deeply, bringing his body closer to mine. 

"God, you drive me crazy," I let out in a breath.

"I said _make love to you_. It means something different," Seungyoon says, taking a moment to gaze in my eyes.


	19. It Means Something Different (Interlude n°3)

**{Seungyoon}**

I wake up with a frozen nose tip and Minho's face nested on my chest, his light snore vibrating on my sternum. I actually don't remember the last time I woke up with somebody sleeping in my arms. And even though this feeling is incredible, I sense a pinch in my heart, like I don't belong in this peaceful scene.

I carefully turn around and land my feet on the cold floor. Minho tosses in the bed, bringing the blanket over his head. I walk to the window, bare-chested and shivering, and shut it down. I peek behind the curtains, leaning on the edge of the window. The sun is up, and the street is bathed in a pale white sunlight. From the window, I can see the rooftops of the nearby houses and the cloudy winter sky. It almost feels like it's about to snow. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of yesterday's night's events.

_We were lazing around in the sheets, weary from our long and tiresome day, but still fighting sleep just to enjoy more time together talking, languidly kissing and exploring each other._

_I could faintly hear music from downstairs mixed with the sound of passing cars on the street as I left the window ajar to let some fresh air in the room. Minho and I had been arguing for a minute about who had been the biggest tease between us two, but I couldn't complain about anything as Minho's lips were latched onto the skin of my shoulder, his whole body rolling on top of me. His mouth had just left a trail of little bites up to my neck when he whispered in my ear, almost winning the argument:_

_"But you're the one who told me you were this close from fucking me in Hawaii, aren't you?"_

_He fell on his side and kissed me again, deeply. I moaned under his touch, even though his words made me wonder if that was really the only thing he understood from my previous statement._

_"I said make love to you. It means something different."_

_I smiled, giving him a delicate kiss while my thumb stroked his sharp cheekbone, and then I paused to observe, somewhat anxiously, the effect of those last words on his facial expression. Almost regretting repeating them._

_Minho stayed silent, only looking at me. His head rested on the pillow, and I saw thoughts running behind those clueless brown eyes, still giving me that lost puppy look of his. I laughed, trying to mask my sudden self-consciousness, but the mood definitely shifted, and, my anxieties went wild again. In front of his stunned expression, my heart sank as I exclaimed clumsily and maybe a little too loud:_

_"I'm messing with you! Don't look so dumb!"_

_The wind engulfed through the closed curtains and caressed our skin. A shiver shook me from head to toe. The breeze seemed to shake Minho up to his senses as he quickly brought up the sheets over us and leaned in closer, capturing our bodies under the covers. In this new and sudden constricted position, I awkwardly slid my arms around his chest, as he rested his forehead against mine._

_"How different?"_

_His voice was low, almost unsure. The warmth of his body embraced me. I closed my eyes and nested my head in the crook of his neck. His fingers traced shapes on my back; the movement lulled my uneasiness, and eventually dispersed it completely._

I sigh, remembering how I felt at peace in a matter of seconds. How the scared little voice in my head was almost immediately silenced, along with all my insecurities. And, as cheesy as it sounds, I'm beginning to think that Minho might very well possess some subtle magic powers.

_My mind and my body were totally numbed by the tenderness of our cocoon of blankets. I finally managed to answer, my face still buried in his embrace:_

_"I'd love to show you... But can we just stay like this for a while? I've never felt this good."_

_Minho chuckled softly, hearing my muffled words._

_"Sure. Let's stay like this."_

_My hands tried to recreate on the skin of his back the same patterns that he drew on mine. I pushed my whole body closer, wanting to melt myself against him. We stayed like this for minutes, not saying a word, just gently caressing each other, synchronizing our breathing, and slowly but surely I fell asleep._

I breathe slowly, closing my eyes. I must be extremely tired still, because I feel I'm floating in this bittersweet dream, in a sleepwalker state that fills me with joy and pain at the same time. I don't know what's going on in my head, but my heart flusters when I think about yesterday. Can this really be something that goes beyond the few days to come? Can I only dream of waking up like this every morning next to my sleeping lover? Can I even dare to call him that? Can I even dare to call him mine?

"Seungyoon..."

I open my eyes and look over my shoulder at Minho who slowly emerges from slumber. He mumbles:

"What are you doing there? You'll catch a cold... Come back in here."

He lifts the covers, inviting me to slip back in bed, inadvertently showing me a glimpse of his naked body in all his glory.

"Please..."

His soft plea makes me smile. How can I say no to this? My self-doubt always leads me back to square one every time I feel like going all-in for what Minho's trying, in his own way, to offer me. Like I'm scared of getting hurt again. I keep running in circles, breaking my fears just to let them creep on me again. It's tiresome.

And if I'm given a chance to experience such sweet... whatever that is, I'd be a fool not to take it, right?


	20. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains explicit sex scenes.

**Tuesday, January 8 th**

**{Minho}**

The air in the room is cold on my skin. My hand searches the bed. The sheets are still warm from Seungyoon's presence, but he's not here anymore. I lazily open an eye, slowly getting accustomed to the dawning light that bathes the room. Seungyoon is leaning against the window, his silhouette outlined in the backlight. I take in the sight of his long slender legs, the shape of his ass in those tiny black panties. I palm my erection, muffling a moan, my mind still full of slumber and the vivid imagery of the sensuous Seungyoon that inhabits my lewdest dreams.

"Seungyoon, come back here... please..."

Seungyoon turns around and smiles at me, quickly taking the few steps that lead to the bed. I trap him with me in the warm sheets and greet him with a somewhat sloppy kiss, my lips still hazed from sleep. He kisses me back more eagerly, and I feel a wave of pleasure washing over me. He rubs his crotch against my morning hard-on. I hum against his lips, my tongue exploring the depths of his mouth.

Ripples of heat run on my body as Seungyoon leaves our kiss to move down my chest, under the covers, halting the path traced by his lips to suck on my right nipple. I jolt against his stomach, sighing, grasping his hair with both my hands. He shifts his attention to my left nipple, rolling it between his teeth as he keeps teasing the other one with a lazy finger. I groan louder, tossing the blanket. My hands instantly grip Seungyoon's waist and make him sit still on my bulge, while my mouth rushes on his lips. I feel his ass rubbing on my hard cock through his underwear.

"I want you so bad," I hear him gasp between our kisses.

My brain goes numb hearing his plea, my body flooding with an electrifying sensation of lust. His mouth sucks on the base of my neck, as he starts rocking back and forth on me. My head bends back, and I just follow his rhythm.

"Do you really want to do this?" I ask under my breath, my fingers stroking his lower back.

Seungyoon nods, leaning in to kiss my jaw again.

"I do."

"Then, let me do this."

I tip him over, lying his back on the mattress, while I bend out of the bed to fumble in the pockets of my dufflebag on the bed stand. I get out a bunch of condoms and a bottle of lube. He chuckles.

"You came prepared," he says, with a smirk.

I drop everything on the bed next to us.

"Didn't you?" I reply, grinning, knowing very well that, on our way to Busan, he spent a lot of time browsing through the different packages of preservatives in a convenience store on the road, trying to choose between various brands, shapes and sizes, in secret while I was getting us coffee and cigarettes.

"I did," he simply answers, sheepishly.

I smirk as I slowly peel off Seungyoon's underwear, tossing it at the end of the bed. Then, I delicately lift his legs up to rest his calves on each of my shoulders, leaning forward to kiss his inner thighs. His soft skin trembles under my lips. I reach for the lube and stumblingly put some on the fingers of my hand.

I bend down between his legs and run my tongue over his hard pulsating length as my fingers gently spread his ass cheeks, stroking all the way from his balls to his asshole in a back-and-forth motion. Seungyoon squirms under my touch. I take the oozing tip of his cock in my mouth and I slide a finger inside him. He moans, his hands pushing my head further down following the flow of his hip thrusts on my finger. I hum, my throat vibrating on his dick making it twitch against my tongue, while slowly inserting yet another finger in his tight hole. Seungyoon's body undulates under me, trying to get the best feeling out of every sensations. With a popping sound, I take off my slightly swollen lips from his rod, licking my way up to his navel, a third finger now pumping inside him.

A light shimmer of sweat covers Seungyoon's torso. There's no trace of cold air in the room anymore, only our smoldering breaths. I withdraw my fingers to stroke him in a longer motion once again from his sack to his asshole, only inserting a teasing finger this time. Seungyoon lurches, his arms falling around my neck, and he lifts his head to bite my lower lip hard.

"You better fuck me now..."

Seungyoon's eyes glimmer, his breath is heavy, his cheeks flustered and his lips are red and wet.

"...or else I'll fuck you till one of us passes out," he lets out in a groan.

I fumble to grab a condom and put it on, hastily. Seungyoon pushes me on the bed, positioning himself on top of me. When his fingers close on my hard rod, guiding it gradually past his lubrified asshole, all air leaves my lungs as I let out a long and deep sigh, my body uncontrollably waving. God, it feels so good. His walls clench on me and it takes me every bit of control not to come right away when Seungyoon's ass finally touches my thighs. He starts rotating his hips, his head slightly bent on the side. His eyes are closed, his parted lips show the tip of his tongue, and I am sure this sight will haunt my lonely nights forever.

My hand holds his lower back to keep him steady as he starts going up and down on my cock. My other hand pumps his erection, adding more lube on his engorged member. Seungyoon soon lets out a cry as he slams down his ass hard on me and comes all over my stomach. I pick up the rhythm, continuously thrusting, as his body shivers, still riding the orgasm. His hands fall on my chest. He opens his eyes and gazes at me with a gleaming look and his opened jaw, roughly panting, catching his breath. 

"You're so beautiful."

I almost choke on my words as I pronounce them, running my fingers in his hair, in a tugging motion behind his ear. I roll us over so Seungyoon can lay confortably, his body now totally relaxed as I continue pumping into him, in a slower pace. 

"No. You are."

His voice is deep and raw. His eyelids flutter following my motion, his lips parting each time I hit that spot deep within him. 

"You're the most sensual and beautiful man I know, Minho... I... I..."

His sentence is interrupted by a series of moans. I lean in to devour his lips, thrusting harder, never wanting this feeling of bliss to end, even though the tension building up in my groin urges me to pump faster to relieve this pressure. Our arms, our hands, our fingers intertwine in the sheets. In between our chests, his nails leave their marks on my skin. His asshole clenches relentlessly on my dick.

"God, you feel so good," I whimper, on the verge of coming.

I feel my muscles contract, blood coursing through my body like fire.

"Don't come now, please... This feels incredible," Seungyoon murmurs in my ear.

I feel his length becoming hard again against my stomach. I try to contain myself longer as my heartbeat accelerates. His mouth searches for mine, panting, his fingers burying themselves deep in the flesh of my chest. 

"Fuck me harder," I hear him whisper. "Please..."

I thrust in vigorously again, the sound of my thighs slapping the hot skin of his ass making me want more, so much more. Seungyoon grabs his own penis and strokes it firmly until he reaches climax, coming between our intertwined bodies, clenching once again on me. My whole body tenses up as I feel the rush of endorphins kicking, shaking my limbs, and a deep growl leaves my throat as I ejaculate. 

With my last drop of energy left, I withdraw and throw away the condom. Seungyoon catches me in his arms when I fall on the mattress. His lips find mine and he gives me the softest of kisses.

"You are something quite special," he says.

His eyes shine. He gives me a gentle smile, almost a shy one. And I am dumbfounded to witness the difference between that cute-faced Seungyoon and the dark and sexy man who was riding the hell out of me minutes ago. His lips are red and swollen. I slide a finger on them.

"Was I too rough?" I ask.

Seungyoon chuckles.

"No, but I think I was. I..."

He hesitates a second, a shadow of worry passes on his forehead. 

"I got a little bold here... It's been... let's say it's been a while since I had sex and I think I was craving for something... intense. I'm sorry if I was too much."

I sense him tensing up. I lean in again and kiss him in the most gentle way possible.

"Hey... I like bold and intense. You know what I love?"

Seungyoon looks at me with a question mark written on his forehead. I get closer until my nose caresses the tip of his nose.

"Passion. And you gave me that. You made me the gift of being totally yourself. Bold. Intense. Passionate. True."

I pause, looking in his eyes.

"And it makes me like you even more."

Seungyoon's cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as I kiss him again, slowly and deeply. When I lean back, he nibbles his lower lip, his arms still holding me tight. Our skin feels cold and sticky where our mixed cum spread. Seungyoon looks around, searching for something to help us clean, in vain. He finally asks me:

"We are kind of messy... Maybe we should go take a shower. You want to join me? Save some water."

I throw him a mischievious smile.

"Yeah, okay. But you know you and me in a shower won't save any water, right? It might just be the opposite."

Seungyoon smirks. 

"Yeah, I know. And I'm kinda of counting on that."

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

Minho's back is leaning against the slippery wall. Water cascades on his abs, dripping down on my face. My hands grip harder on his ass as I push my mouth further on his cock. His fingers hold my hair from sticking on my forehead, slowly guiding my head to the combined motion of my lips and his rocking hips. I faintly hear his moans amidst the noise of the gushing water. His hand moves from my hair to my cheek, gently stroking it. 

"Come up here," he says.

I follow the stream of water on his torso, kissing my way up to his lips, while he helps me get up on my feet. Minho takes the bottle of soap on the shelf and starts spreading foam on my body, massaging the muscles of my chest, my arms, my back. I take the bottle and mirror his movements, tracing circles of bubbles on his chest, swirling it along his arms. Our fingers interlace at the end of the motion, and instinctively we squeeze our hands tight. Minho's eyes glisten, and he pulls me closer to him, our soapy bodies sliding against one another. His lips capture my mouth, his teeth nibble on my lips, his tongue caresses the insides of my mouth as his arms embrace me tighter. Our legs tangle, every parts of our bodies seem to be fuzed together, as we let the water wash off the foam.

"I feel good with you," I say.

Minho smiles, keeping his eyes shut under the showering water, his head leaned back against the wall. 

"I feel good too."

He softly squeezes me in his arms.

"We should get out before we run out of hot water," he says, turning off the faucet. 

~ °°° ~

We get dry and return to our room. There is not a sound in the hallway, suggesting that everybody is still asleep on the lower floors. I look at my phone on the bed stand; it's still super early. I run through my bag to get fresh clothes and then I lift my head to find Minho, in his boxers, his wet hair slightly dripping on the floor, looking at the family picture I left on the desk last night. 

"So, what's the plan?" He asks, meeting my gaze.

I take a second to think, passing my sweater over my head.

"I thought we could go and see if we can find my old house, the one in this picture? And then, when the market opens, maybe try to find my grandmother's workshop? What do you think?"

Minho nods.

"You're the boss today," he replies, winking. "I'm merely your sidekick on this journey."

I smirk, walking up to him.

"I think you're much more than that."

I give him a pretty smile and take the photo from his hand to put it back in the red album. Minho gives it a curious look.

"Are there other pictures of you in there?"

I laugh shortly, putting the photobook back in my bag.

"Yes. But you don't get to see them. Because they are a _mother's-fatal-weapon-to-shame-her-child-in-front-of-their-boyfriend_ kind of material."

Minho chuckles. 

"And I guess we're not there yet in our relationship," he replies.

"I'll let my mom do that when you meet her eventually."

I get confused for a moment, unsettled by my spontaneous choice of words. 

"I mean _if_ you eventually meet her. I kinda forgot how time and space work for a second here," I add after correcting my previous sentence.

I let out a rueful little laugh. Minho pulls me in a hug.

"Hey, it's fine. We still have plenty of time in our lives. You can say _when_ , and we'll make it happen, okay?"

I sigh, comforted once again by his presence. I don't know how he does it, but Minho always seems to have the exact words I need to hear.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do that."

~ °°° ~

Outside, the air is thickened by a white winter fog. It's definitely colder than yesterday. I tighten the collar of Minho's old jacket around my neck.

"Where are we going?" Minho asks, tossing me a helmet.

I take out my phone and show him on the map the surroundings of my old neighbourhood.

"Somewhere around there. My mom wasn't sure of the address, but she told me we used to live a few blocks east from this elementary school."

Minho notes it in his GPS, studying the proposed itinerary and puts his phone back in his pocket. 

"Okay, hop on. We'll be there in minutes."

We ride in the silent streets and I think to myself that this is probably what I'll remember the most of my time in this country: the quiet and empty streets in the winter morning.

We stop in front of my former school. I barely remember anything about the years I spent here, and seeing this building doesn't even ring a bell. I get off the bike and I march up to the gate. Yes, maybe this is bringing some memories, but every schoolyard looks the same, and I feel my memories of those younger years overlay, mixing reminiscences of Busan and Vancouver altogether. 

"You okay?"

Minho puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I was just far away in my head."

"Remembering old stuff?"

"Nah, the opposite."

I turn around to talk to him. 

"I was thinking about how I don't have any recollection of my time spent here as a kid. Like everything had just been erased."

Minho hums. 

"What age were you when you went away? About six, right? Still very young..."

I nod. He continues:

"I think it's just normal not to remember things from when we were children. Our brain pushes away stuff it thinks we won't need anymore. Maybe something like that happened to you."

It's my turn to hum as I begin walking on the sidewalk. 

"Maybe you're right."

We keep walking east, following the narrow pavement. Minho slides his arm under my arm.

"You know, it's not the first time I have this feeling of memories fading..."

I enunciate my thought, while looking around through the dissipating fog to find clues of my childhood.

"I have an excellent memory for music, lyrics, books I read, facts I learn. I can probably sing you every song I heard in the last ten years and not make a single mistake in the lyrics. But I feel I slowly forget simple moments of my life. Like my childhood here."

Minho gets closer, his shoulder leaning on mine as we keep strolling. I like this intimate feeling we seem to share, walking in the quiet dawning morning. Just us, wrapped in a bubble of fog.

"Again, I think it's typical to progressively forget things," Minho replies, softly. "And I don't think we forget them completely. I like to think that these memories are just stored very far away, and somewhat even preciously, in our mind. In a way, we are the sum of what we experience and of what we make of our experiences. These faded moments of our past are still part of us... in a way."

I sigh, lifting my head to look at the white cloudy sky. 

"Sometimes, I'm under the impression I'm going nowhere. That I just float around, not leaving a trace behind me, with no particular goal to look forward to."

"What do you mean?" Asks Minho.

"I wanted to do extraordinary things before. When I was a kid. When I studied in college. In university. Then I became an adult and I lost track of that. I felt so anxious, juggling with the new responsibilities, the bills, the rent, the insurances, the ups and downs of a couple's life, and everything else, that I strived to find solutions to help me win this battle against my growing anxieties."

A car drives by, disrupting the quietness. 

"And even though I was living with Jaebum, I felt I had to find a way to ensure that we would be okay on the long-term, that we would have a steady and secure life. I always saw my mom struggling financially and I didn't want that to happen to me, nor to Jaebum. So I accepted Jinwoo's offer and we opened the record store. It was probably my very last bold move, and I did it to get rid of my fears. But I sense it also put me down roots. In a good and in a bad way. Because now I feel like I don't move anymore... My life is just a boring straight line of concrete with my feet stuck in it."

I stop talking, a tight knot forming in my chest. It's probably that same stillness that got the better of my relationship with Jaebum. And I don't want to make the same mistakes again. Minho slides his arm down to take my hand. He gently squeezes my fingers.

"You know it's just a way to look at your life, right?"

I give him a side glance.

"Why do you say that?"

He smiles.

"I spend my childhood and my teenage years just going with the flow, like so many other kids. Following what my parents told me to do, eating the food my mom made, listening to my sister's stories and believing them. Then I met my friends, and I followed them, doing the same stupid things they did. I just felt like my life was moving around me and brought me along. And then, I decided I wanted to do something on my own. To experience life outside of my life. Somewhere my friends and my parents weren't going to be. And I left for France. And you know what I discovered?"

"What?"

I turn to walk sideways, carefully listening Minho's story. I realize I told him so much about me, but I never took the time to learn more about him. Minho wears a serious face, his cheeks drawn longer and sharper. He plays vapidly with his lip ring. I can sense these memories still take a big toll on his mind.

"I followed the same patterns. Because, even though I separated myself from what I used to know, it still was my life. I was still living my life. So I went to school, I made new friends, I fell in love, and I followed closely the people that shared my daily life. Nothing changed. And I got hurt. I felt alone. Cheated. Broken. Betrayed. And I wanted to escape my life once again."

Minho pauses and looks at our laced fingers. We walk along a block of old apartment buildings. Still no memories coming back to me. I feel like I've never set foot in this neighbourhood. Minho's voice resonates against the red brick walls.

"When I came back to Seoul, my mom was very concerned about me and suggested I see a therapist. I did have a few sessions. Enough to be overtly annoyed and cancel any further appointments, but also enough to understand that maybe the problem resided in the fact that I saw my life as a trap, when in fact, I was building the walls that kept me from being happy. For all those years, I thought my life was something outside of me, something that enveloped me, when in reality, there is only me, my emotions, and how I perceive the world and the things that surround me. "

A little smile etches on my lips.

"I never thought of it like that. But you're right. I have to admit that fear is too often guiding my every move. It distorts the perception I have of myself, of people and events."

"Exactly. And I don't want to preach because I know you probably already know that, but all I want to say is this: if you feel trapped by your life, try to analyze the emotions you feel and what triggers them. Fear is our number one enemy. And if we can see past that fear and imagine our lives as a stepping stone to various new opportunities, well maybe we won't feel so trapped anymore. In my case, I decided to always take one step at the time, never engaging myself too far too quickly, but never, ever, letting an opportunity slip away."

We turn around the corner of a street, and suddenly, something feels familiar. The smell of fresh bread fills the early morning air. The sidewalk widens as we are faced with a white brick building. It seems to be a coffee shop, joined to a bakery. A small table stands next to empty flower pots and a lovely decorative lamp post. On the glass door, golden letters form the name of the place, _Snowdrop._ I recognize the architecture of the old flower shop from the picture, despite the years and the slight transformation. I tug on Minho's coat, stopping our wander.

"I think we're here," I whisper.

We spend a couple of minutes just looking at the place. We can see light inside the coffee and someone working behind the counter through the window. Minho leans his head on my shoulder.

"You want to go in? It seems to be open," he says softly to my ear.

I hesitate, but the air smells so good, and I didn't get my morning coffee yet. I nod as Minho pulls the door of the coffee shop, making the bells chime.

Just before I enter, I run my hand on the exterior wall. I recognize under my finger tips the same coarse texture that scratched my elbows when I came running in the shop almost two decades ago. The memory is faint, but it's definitely there.

Minho is already walking towards the counter. I join him, slipping my hand around his waist. The girl placing the pastries in the display case lifts her head and greets us. And, as our gazes meet, I remember, in a flash, those playful eyes.

_Eunji._

Maybe not all memories are gone after all.


	21. Snowdrop (Day 6)

_snowdrop_  
_a drooping little white flower that blooms during winter  
a symbol innocence, hope and rebirth_

**Tuesday, January 8 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

Eunji.

She was a year older than me, and she lived next door. Her parents owned the bakery store on our street. She had long brown hair and big smiling eyes. We used to walk to school together in the morning. She dreamed of being a musical actress and would improvise shows for the stray cats in the backstreet after we finished our homework. And, above all, she loved flowers. As a gift, my mom would sometimes let her choose a flower from all the flowers in the store. Eunji would always select amongst the smaller ones a delicate flower that she would pin onto her school uniform. It was kind of her trademark and she was proud of it.

One day, she received a flower-shaped silver broch as a gift from her relatives. She wasn't supposed to wear it outside, but she was too excited to show it to me. So she wore it on her blouse, exactly like she did with the real flowers my mom gave her. But then it had to happen... We were playing games in the backstreet, and Eunji slipped on the sidewalk. Her broch dropped in the gutter. She cried a lot. I remember the scratch on her knee, the tears flowing on her redden puffy cheeks. She was grounded for a week. In the meantime, my only goal was to deliver her from her room and I thought that if I could find the broch, she would be allowed to play with me again. So I spent my time, imagining myself as a treasure hunter, trying to retrieve Eunji's lost jewelry from the sewers with a magnet. In vain. I was five. Too young to know magnets don't work on silver objects.

All these little fragments of memories overflow me.

But before seeing her again at this instant, I had totally forgotten about her.

Is it her, though? I look at this woman behind the counter and hesitate. The odds to find Eunji at the same place I used to know her 20 years ago are very unlikely. And yet, it would be quite fitting since her parents owned a bakery around here.

The girl looks back at me, politely smiling at my frozen expression. This is getting awkward. I sense Minho pushing me with his shoulder, oblivious to my train of thoughts.

"What do you want?" He asks, pointing at the black board filled with blue chalk writing.

I waver a moment.

"I'll take an Americano."

The girl nods and moves to the coffee machine.

"You can take a sit. I'll bring you your order shortly."

Minho walks over a small table next to the window, but before joining him, I turn to the girl.

"I'm sorry, this is very awkward," I say. "But is your name Eunji, by any chance?"

She turns to face me, slightly frowning.

"Yes, it is," she replies. "Do we know each other? You do have a familiar face..."

I still hesitate. It could very well be a coincidence. I cringe a bit. I'm always so awkward in these situations.

"Do you know if there was a flower shop here before?"

"Yes, there was. My parents had a bakery next door and they bought these premises in mid-90s to expand their business when the flower shop closed."

I nod, suddenly smiling. It's her. 

The girl still glances at me with an intrigued look.

"That flower shop used to belong to my mom. I grew up here."

Eunji's eyes light up as she beams a large smile.

"Seungyoonie? I thought you looked familiar..."

"You remember me?" I ask, quite surprised.

Eunji lets out a chuckle, pulling an espresso shot and adding hot water.

"Of course, I remember you. We used to play together in the backstreet behind the flower shop, before you and your mom left."

She peers at something behind my shoulder, then looks back at me and smiles.

"Go sit down with your friend. I think he's getting lonely. I'll come and sit down with you when everything is ready."

I turn to the table. Minho took off his coat and his hat, and he is now gazing through the window. I smile back at Eunji and walk up to Minho. He turns his gaze and looks at me with a curious expression while I get off my jacket and put it on my chair.

"You know her?" He asks.

I chuckle and sit down.

"It's the weirdest thing. We used to be childhood friends. She lived next door."

Minho raises his eyebrows.

"And you remembered her?"

"I did."

He smirks.

"After all that _I-forgot-everything_ talk? I'm impressed."

I laugh, giving his leg a nudge with my foot under the table.

"I guess the walk up to here just put me in the right disposition to summon up memories."

Minho winks.

"Told you. We don't really forget everything. We often just need the right trigger."

I lay my hand on top of his, and I smile.

"Thanks again for being here with me. It means a lot."

"Always my pleasure," he responds in a light tone, taking my fingers up to his lips to kiss them gently. 

I throw a glance behind Minho, as Eunji approaches the table with a tray. As she puts the plates and the mugs between Minho and me, I notice she's pregnant, probably for several months already, something I didn't see at first glance when she was behind the counter. She sits down with us.

"I'm glad to see you, Seungyoon. It's really been a long time."

"It is. And I'm glad to see you too, Eunji. This is Minho. He's a dear friend of mine."

Minho bows his head to Eunji. I note a slight flush on his cheeks.

"And Minho, this is Eunji. We grew up together."

"Nice to meet you," Minho says.

Eunji smiles. She has the same little wrinkles in the corner of her eyes and a dimple on one cheek.

"Nice to meet you too."

"How have you been?" I ask. 

"I'm good. I co-own this coffee shop now with my husband. My parents are still managing the bakery next door."

"And I see you're expanding the family," I say.

She giggles. 

"I am. Our little snowdrop will probably join us by the end of the month. And you, how have been? Did you move back in South Korea?"

I take a sip of coffee.

"No, I'm still living in Canada. I'm just passing by."

"Oh! So what brings you to Busan?"

I look down at my cup, rolling it between my palms.

"I'm actually looking for my grandmother... My father's mother... You wouldn't happen to know if she's still around, would you?"

I lift my gaze. Eunji's face darkens. 

"What exactly do you know?" she asks me, cautiously.

I try to decipher her sombre expression, hoping for something other than the bad news I think it is. 

"My mom told me she received letters from my grandmother up until last year. That she was still working in a sewing shop as a seamstress. My mom gave me the return address written on the envelope. It's in this neighbourhood."

Eunji bites her lip.

"Then, I'm sorry for being the bringer of bad news..."

She pauses, understandably very uncomfortable.

"Your grandmother passed away last spring..."

I feel like a bucket of cold water was dropped on my head. I shiver, trying to contain this sad feeling washing over me. I don't even know why I feel so sad. I didn't even know her. Minho grabs my hand on the table, but I close my eyes just for a second. Just to keep all my emotions contain. I gather my strength, squeeze Minho's hand back as I look at Eunji.

"What happened?" I finally ask.

Eunji's lips twist, as she thinks.

"You should know that there is more... How can I say this?"

She takes a deep breath.

"Your grandmother was well known in the neighbourhood. She was a good person, always helping people around. But as she was getting old, she lost her sight. She couldn't sew, she couldn't read or write. She had to close her shop. Luckily, your father was living with her."

I stiffen at the mention of my father. 

"I thought he left..."

Eunji lowers her gaze to her fingers on the table. 

"Seungyoon, your father never really left... Yes, from what I understand, he was going on and off, but after you and your mom left, he... I think he changed... Or at least that's what everyone around here thinks... I didn't really know him... But I can tell you is that he took great care of your grandmother. We would always see them taking walks together and he would tell her everything he saw."

"How did she pass?"

My voice is but a low breath. 

"She just died of old age, one morning..."

I don't know what to say. My mouth is dry. I try to drink a gulp of coffee, but it only scrapes my tongue. I look up to the ceiling, trying to picture my grandmother and my father. Trying to imagine what he would look like now, searching in the back of my mind for a memory of his face, but I find nothing.

"Do you know... if... he's still around?" I manage to ask.

Eunji's face takes on a painful expression.

"I'm so very sorry for what I'm about to say, Seungyoon, I'm sincerely sorry... But your father also passed away... some months ago..."

It's not a bucket of cold water this time, but a high wave of ice shards piercing through my body. I try to breathe but the air just leaves my chest. I get dizzy, the walls spinning around me. I get up and rush out of the coffee shop, my legs barely keeping me up. 

My vision narrows.

I'm asphyxiating.

Panic attack.

I sit on the ground, my back against the wall, and close my eyes, trying to get my breathing right again. I hear noise around me, and a hand pat my hair gently. I open my eyes to see Minho, kneeling in front of me on the sidewalk. His eyes are full of concern, and for the first time, I see two wrinkles deepen his forehead. I maintain his gaze, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, trying to match his. My ears are still ringing, but my vision becomes clearer. And suddenly, I feel the tears gush out of my eyes as I am choked with uncontrollable sobs. I curl up on myself, sobbing harder. Minho leaps in and closes his arms around me, leaning my head against his chest, gently rocking my shaking body. 

"I don't know why I'm crying," I mumble. "I don't even know them... Why am I so sad?"

The hiccups come in strong waves, preventing me from speaking any further.

"It's okay to be sad," Minho whispers. "It's a big shock. It's okay."

I hear the bells of the door tinkle.

"Seungyoonie..."

Eunji's voice is sad and fragile. I don't have the strength to look at her.

"Seungyoon, I'm so sorry... Come back inside, please. I'll get you something warm. Please..."

The bells chime again. I sob in Minho's collar, gripping at his coat. I sense his lips pressing a kiss on my forehead.

"She's right, darling. Let's go back inside."

I open up my eyes, wiping the tears with the sleeve of my sweater, realizing I left the shop without my jacket. Minho helps me get on my feet, pulling me in a hug inside his coat. My cold hands circle his waist and his arms envelope me in a warm embrace.

"I'm here for you," Minho says, in a lower tone. "Everything will be fine."

~ °°° ~

When we get back inside, Eunji puts a cup of hot cocoa in front of me. 

"Drink. It's sweet and hot. It's good for you."

I chuckle softly as I bring the cup to my lips, my hands still shaking.

"Thank you... I... I am sorry. I got overwhelmed."

Eunji smiles kindly. 

"It's okay. You're upset. I would have reacted the same way... I'm really sorry..."

We stay silent for several minutes. Minho keeps his arm around my shoulder, his body close to me. I finally break the silence. 

"Tell me more... please."

Eunji sighs. She pouts, putting a hand on her belly.

"What do you want to know?"

My mind is blank. I can't find words and ways to express my feelings. 

"I can't go back home without knowing what happened."

I pause.

"All my life, I had this one-sided vision of my dad. I want to know what you know."

Eunji's bites her lip again.

"I told you I didn't know him... He was just a familiar face in the neighbourhood."

"Please, I beg in a whisper. Tell me."

She hums, side-looking through the window. 

"After you left with your mom, my parents renovated the shop and transformed it into this place. Every night during high school, I used to sit at that table over there, next to the counter, and do my homework while my parents worked. Once, many years after you left, your father came around asking for you. I was about fourteen years old. My dad told him you were long gone away, and I remember your father just shook his head down and left the shop, without a word. He came back a couple of times after that. Sometimes, I would see him wandering in front of the window. I didn't know much at that time, but I understood very well that my dad didn't like having him around our business. I later learned from my mom that your father had a pretty bad reputation around here. Drinking, gambling, and stuff. We stopped seeing him for a while again. When he came back, two or three years ago, he looked changed. He looked better. Healthier. And that's when I made the connection between him and the old lady that owned the sewing shop my mom went to. I didn't know she was your grandmother up until then."

Eunji pauses.

"And to be fair, at that point, I didn't think of them as your relatives. I barely thought about you anymore. For me, they were just people living in the neighbourhood... I learned from the customers that your grandmother had passed. After a couple of months, we stopped seeing your father. Gossips said he left again, having nothing else to stay here for. But he was later found unconscious in his apartment. He had died from a heart attack. And... that's all I know..."

Her words slowly steep in my brain, giving a new perspective on what seemed to be an unchangeable truth. 

"Thank you," I murmur, putting the empty cup of cocoa on the table.

I search for the words in my mind, but they keep evading me.

"I think I'll go now..." I finally say.

I get up, grab my jacket. I look at Eunji, still sitting on her chair. 

"I'm so sorry for my behaviour today. I wish our reunion would have been different. But I'm glad I had the chance to meet you again after all this time."

She smiles, softly grabbing my hand. 

"You are always welcome here if you pass by again. And maybe you'll get to meet the whole family."

She gets up and pulls me in a hug. 

"Be strong, Seungyoon. You were always the strongest one. And you have a big heart. Take care of yourself."

She turns to Minho.

"And you too. Be safe and take care. It was nice meeting you."

Minho bows his head. Eunji turns to me and adjusts the collar of my coat.

"You make a cute couple, both of you."

I sense the blood rushing to my face. Eunji laughs, patting my cheek with her gentle hand. 

"Don't blush like that! I simply wish you the best."

I try to contain my sudden shyness and smile back at her.

"Thank you, Eunji. I wish you the best in your life too. I think you'll make an incredible mom."

Eunji's eyes twinkle as they always did in my memories. I turn to Minho and we leave the coffee shop. 

~ °°° ~

"Are you okay?" asks Minho, as we walk back to the motorcycle parked next to the school. 

I look at my feet. 

"I think I feel bad..."

"Why is that?"

"I feel guilty. I always thought my dad was a shameless, unreliable guy. My mom didn't talk a lot about him, but I made my own idea from little snippets of conversations I overheard over the years. My dad was never a hero. I always viewed him like this irresponsible man."

I sigh. 

"Eunji's story just made me realize there is so much more I didn't know about my dad... And it makes me sad. Never once in my life, I thought about contacting him again. I simply disavowed him. Never wished to make him a part of my life. And now I'm starting to regret..."

Minho stops me a couple of meters from the motorbike.

"Of course, you'll have regrets. It's only normal. But I think it's never too late to make peace with him in your heart, you know."

A sad smile forms on my lips. 

"Why is everything feels so simple with you?"

Minho chuckles.

"Nothing is simple. But we have to find a way to move forward, right?"

I nod, getting closer to him. I put a strand of his hair back under his cap. 

"You called me _darling_..."

Minho locks his gaze in mine as I speak.

"I think I like that," I whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly.

His hands move up to hold my jaw and he kisses me back, leaving a series of smaller pecks on my lips.

"She told you we made a pretty couple," he says, with a smirk.

I step back, biting my lips as I walk backwards to the motorcycle.

"Don't you think she's right?" I reply.

I look at Minho, standing there, smiling, so vibrant in the grey morning.

"Yeah, I think she is right."


	22. Waves (Day 6)

**Tuesday, January 8 th**

**{Minho}**

The ride back to the hostel goes somewhat smoothly. I feel Seungyoon leaning close against my back, his hands holding my waist. The streets are busier, and I have to maneuver between the trucks and the cars to move forward. In my head, I replay the last hours, sadden by Seungyoon's pain, wishing I could do more to help him than too few reassuring words.

I park the bike in front of the hostel. Seungyoon gets off and puts his helmet in the luggage case. I give him mine too and walk around the bike to lean against the stone fence of the hostel garden. I light a cigarette. Seungyoon climbs on the top of the fence, next to me, his feet laced in combat boots dangling in the air. He takes out his pack of cigarettes and lights one up, deeply inhaling. The smoke floats around us before being carried away by the wind. Seungyoon stays silent, looking straight ahead of us. The way up to here must have played a bit on his mind. His features are hard, closed. He has that cold expression that I've seen him wear before, when he tries not to let his pain show.

"How are you keeping up?" I ask, looking in the vague. 

I hear him sigh.

"Not good."

He jumps off the fence, landing on his feet in front of me. He crashes the butt of his cigarette in a patch of frozen dead grass. 

"I'm tired."

His voice is monotone. I look up to meet his gaze. He looks unbelievably weary. 

"You should rest in the room. We still have it for a couple of hours. Could do you good."

Seungyoon simply nods and turns his heels to walk through the front door of the hostel. I stay outside, my back against the stone fence, slowly smoking a second cigarette. I observe the sea in the distance at the end of the street, between buildings.

I remember Hawaii, the waves crashing, his silhouette in the moonlight, walking on the sand. Memories of Seungyoon will always be paired with vivid images of the sea in my mind. Maybe that's why I painted him in shapes of waves and shades of blue in my last piece.

I'm fascinated by him.

Drawn to him in a way that has rarely happened before.

When he shows me his weaknesses and his flaws, I want to protect him against the ominous world. But then, he shows me his strength of character, his power, his confidence, and I'm in awe. I feel I'm falling in love with him with every passing hour and, to be honest, I almost let it out three times already today.

But it also makes me wonder what will happen with our upcoming separation. I try not to think about it, but, the more I get to know Seungyoon, be with him, share parcels of my life with him, the more I fear the pain that will tear us, tear me apart, when he leaves. I wonder if I should push further, confess my growing feelings, or just keep them in check, to prevent more hurting when our ways part.

Because we will part, one way or another. It's inevitable at this point.

I sigh, remembering how Seungyoon enunciated the same concerns some nights ago when we were on the Cheonggyecheon promenade. And I remember how I told him not to worry about that. How we should just let things go their way and just enjoy ourselves. Something I told him again on our way to Busan. Something I lead my life on for so long now.

But maybe Seungyoon was right to be cautious of the moments we shared. Because I am very confused now. Being with Seungyoon fills me with so many joyful emotions, with a pure energy that makes me happy and confident.

But it also fills me with a greater fear.

Fear of pain.

Fear of being left alone.

Again.

I take one last look at the foggy grey sea in the distance before flicking my burned-out cigarette in the gutter.

~ °°° ~

In the kitchen, the kids are making breakfast, filling the ground floor with shouts and laughter. Such a different mood than the one storming inside my head. I lean in the doorframe. One of the guys, wearing a large cut-up shirt and a ponytail, turns to look at me.

"Good morning!" he says, giving me a toothy smile. "Do you want some coffee?"

He pours hot coffee into a cup next to the sink and brings it up to me. 

"Your name is Minho, right?" he asks, while I nod, dipping my lips in the cup.

"Yes, but I'm sorry I don't remember yours..."

"It's Jiwon. But you can call me Bobby. Everybody does."

He looks behind me in the lobby.

"Your friend is not here?"

I clear my throat, drinking another gulp of coffee.

"We went for a walk this morning and he got tired. He's in our room."

"Oh, okay."

Bobby turns around to grab his own cup he left on the table. The smell of burning eggs reaches my nostrils as the gang cramped up around the stove shouts and swears at their failed attempt at making breakfast.

"Did you eat?" the boy in front of me asks.

I take a good look at him. His features are extremely sharp and really pretty. The piercing on his left eyebrow accentuates his gaze, and his eyes seem to permanently smile. 

"No, I didn't. But I'm not entirely sure I would eat burned scrambled eggs," I answer, jokingly. 

My laugh rings falsely in my ears, but Jiwon just shrugs his shoulders.

"I get it. It's not a taste everyone enjoys."

He laughs. 

"What are you doing in Busan?"

I finish my cup of coffee and place the mug on the counter, before sliding a hand in my pocket.

"My friend grew up here. We came to see some of his relatives."

"Oh, I see. You're staying long?"

I shake my head.

"Actually, I think we'll be leaving today..."

Jiwon frowns.

"Didn't you arrived yesterday?"

"Yeah, we did. We only had a few things to do. And I think we've done everything on our list."

The young man nods, taking a sip of coffee, and grimaces. 

"Bleh. Cold coffee."

He chuckles and puts his mug next to the coffee machine. He turns to smile at me again.

"If you ever need a lift, I'm going back north to Suwon this afternoon. I could take you both."

"I have my bike, so it might not be ideal..."

"I drive a pick-up, it's gonna fit in the back, no worries. Just tell me soon enough. I'm leaving around 1PM."

I nod, checking my watch. 

"Will do. Thank you."

He gives me a cute smile again.

"You sure you don't want breakfast?"

I smile back. Not so long ago, I would have played along this flirtatious vibe of his for sure. But now?

"No, it's fine. Thanks anyway."

~ °°° ~

I walk up to our room, softly pushing the door, trying to be as discreet as possible in case Seungyoon is asleep. I peek inside the room. Seungyoon is sitting on the bed, talking on a video call to a woman I can only assume to be his mother. I bow surreptitiously and move backwards to leave, but Seungyoon gestures me to come nearer.

"Mom, this is the friend I told you about. Minho."

I come in closer, sitting on the bed next to Seungyoon who moves the phone, so I'd be on the frame too. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Song Minho."

"Nice to meet you, Minho," the lady in the screen answers, smiling.

I can't help but think they have the same smile, and it makes me feel something new.

Discovering his smile on someone else's face.

"I am happy my Seungyoonie has a friend like you to help him around."

I feel my ears becoming warm. 

"Please take good care of him, and make sure he eats well, and that he doesn't get lost."

I nod, starting to feel the warmth take over my cheeks. Why do I feel so shy all of a sudden? 

"Mom!" exclaims Seungyoon. "Don't embarrass me now. I'm fine. Don't worry."

I watch him smile at his mother, and my heart melts. And that's when I understand my uneasiness. 

It's the first time I'm actually meeting the parents of someone I love.

This is why this whole scene feels so foreign: I've never experienced this before.

"Okay, pumpkin. Be careful now."

"Yes, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, sweety. Bye, Minho, it was nice talking to you."

I slightly bow my head.

"Likewise."

"Bye, Mom," Seungyoon says, before hanging up, tossing his phone on the floor and lying on his stomach on the bed.

"Your mom is sweet," I say, lying on my back next to Seungyoon.

I extend a hand to glide my fingers in his hair, stroking them softly.

"How do you feel?"

Seungyoon sighs.

"In ups and downs. My mood is a rollercoaster. Can't control it."

"Did you sleep?"

Seungyoon turns on his side and pushes his head against my hand, like a cat asking to be pet. I chuckle, leaning in to steal a kiss from his lips. He closes his eyes and hums. His lips part just to let the tip of his tongue gently caress my upper lip. I lick my lips, tasting him, and kiss him again. He hums again, kissing me back.

"Didn't even have the time to lie down actually. My mom called me the second I entered the room."

I pass a finger alongside the arch of his nose.

"Did you tell her? About what happened this morning?"

Seungyoon sighs once again and turns on his back. My hand moves up to his hair again.

"Yeah. I told her."

He pauses, looking at the ceiling. 

"She said she's sorry. Sorry she cut ties with this part of our lives. But she said she still thinks she did the right thing at that moment."

A tear rolls down on his cheek, but he swiftly wipes it with his hand.

"She is extremely saddened by the news too. But I think what troubles her the most is that I'm the one who broke the news to her."

Seungyoon tilts his head to look at me. His eyes are shimmering with tears, and it breaks my heart.

"She worries about me..."

He smothers a sob. 

I lean in and hug him tight, softly rocking him for a couple of minutes.

"Did you have other plans for Busan before going back? I ask in a gentle whisper when I feel him much more relaxed in my arms." 

Seungyoon shakes his head.

"No, but I don't think I'm up for eight hours of travelling by bike in the cold again... I'm so very tired..."

He snuggles against my chest.

"I wish I could just click my heels and go back home," he says.

I smile, shaking him up a little.

"And leave me behind so soon?"

And even though I said those words in the most jokingly and carefree of manners, saying them hurts me a thousand times more than what I expected. 

Seungyoon chuckles, oblivious to the storm inside me.

"Okay, then, _click my heels and go to your place_."

I smile to hide my pain when Seungyoon lifts his head to kiss my lips.

"Okay, but just so you know, I got no food in the refrigerator."

He laughs. Watching Seungyoon's face light up like that makes me feel warm inside. Makes me want to never leave this room. Never leave his side.

"I got an offer from one of the guys downstairs. A lift up to Suwon."

Seungyoon frowns. I forgot his geographical knowledge of South Korea is limited.

"That's an hour away from Seoul, I precise. Jiwon will take us and the bike, no problem."

I look at my watch.

"He leaves in less than an hour, though. Would that be okay with you?"

Seungyoon smiles and grabs the rim of my shirt as he rolls on top of me. 

"Sure. Gives me enough time to enjoy breakfast," he says, plunging forward to bite my lower lip.

And I let him torture me again with his fiery kisses, thinking how I could get lost in his touches forever, as the fear keeps growing inside my chest.

~ °°° ~

Jiwon helps me secure the motorcycle in the cab of his truck, then invites me to sit on the passenger seat, while Seungyoon takes place on the backseat. The way to Suwon from Busan is a good five-hour drive, but just the fact that we're able to take the highway makes it all less complicated. I offer to take some of the driving, but Jiwon politely refuses. 

"I'm really used to driving on long distances. It won't be a problem," he says, giving me a side smile. "Is it okay if I put on the radio?"

"Sure," I say.

"Will that disturb your friend? He looks quite tired," replies Jiwon, looking in his back-view mirror.

I turn my head to glance at Seungyoon. It's only been less than thirty minutes since we left the hostel and he's already sleeping, the hood of his sweater covering half his face, just letting his voluptuous lips and the dimple on his chin show.

"Nah, I think it's fine. He has his earphones on."

Jiwon nods and pushes the button to power up the radio, but lowers the volume of the upbeat pop song that shouts out of the speakers. 

"You live in Seoul?" Jiwon asks after some time, turning his head slightly to look at me.

I meet his gaze.

"Yes. You?"

He hums, taking his eyes back on the road.

"Here and there. I basically live on the road, so I have a few friends in different cities where I crash in between jobs, but not a real place of my own."

I nod, giving him a side smile.

"Don't you find it difficult, living on the road?"

"Nah. Suits me. My family is in the US anyway. I came back here to pursue a dream. I ended up driving a delivery truck. But it doesn't matter. I keep enjoying the company of the friends I love, and meeting new people on the way. Like you. It's never boring."

I grin. The coolness of that guy could have gotten me hooked in seconds if I allowed it. I always had crushes on the boho _carpe diem_ type. Something I tried to be myself and failed over and over again, but still kept pretending. 

There is a silence between us. The radio plays an old ballad, the sorts that leaves you nostalgic by its long haunting notes and guitar strings. 

"What do you like to do in life?" Jiwon asks.

I lay back my head on the headrest. 

"Painting. Drawing. Creating stuff. You?"

"Making music. Surfing. Driving in the night."

I hum, looking back at Seungyoon whose head fell against the window of the backseat, deeply asleep. A soft smile forms on my lips, as I contemplate his slightly opened mouth and his chapped lips. I feel Jiwon's eyes on me.

"You guys are together?"

"Kinda," I reply.

My unstable voice betrays my thoughts, but Jiwon stays silent, focusing on the road ahead.

"He lives in Canada," I finally add. "He's only here for a couple of days."

"Oh," Jiwon simply answers.

I take a look at Jiwon's side profile. His eyes are glued on the car in front of them, his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

"I left my high school sweetheart in Virginia when I moved here," he says after a minute, eyes still on the road. "We used to keep in touch, you know, video calls and stuff. He came here once, visiting me. That's when he understood that I met people here and that he wasn't the only person I was committed to. He went back and eventually broke up with me. It hurt me really bad, because I loved him very much. But that's how I learned I needed to be totally honest with people that shared my life. That I had to make it clear to my loved ones that I was there for them and loved them very much, even though they might not be the only people I shared my life with."

"So, you're polyamorous?" I ask, turning again to look at the road.

"Yes. Something like that."

He smiles again, turning his head to glance at me. 

"But I learned the hard way how to lead respectful and meaningful relations. I'm better now than I was in the beginning."

"How many partners do you have right now?" I ask, out of curiosity. "If you don't mind me asking... I know it's a very personal question."

"No problem. There are two people I love very much. I have my girl in Daegu, and my boyfriend in Suwon."

"Do they have other partners as well?"

"Yes, they do. I'm always on the road, you know. Working long hours, being absent for weeks sometimes. I always come back to Suwon or Daegu for some days before going on the road again. I call them mostly every day. I try to cherish them as much as I can, even though I don't see them as often as I wished. But one day, I'll make enough money to put my dream in action. Settle maybe and start my own business in music. Be able to really be there for them when they need it."

I look at Seungyoon, then back at Jiwon. There is a silence again. The DJ on the radio reaches out to the audience, asking how they are spending this wonderful winter afternoon.

"You seem to know a lot about polyamory. It's not quite common nor perceived well here. How'd you know about this stuff?" Jiwon asks, breaking the moment of silence between us.

"I spend a night once on a study trip to Berlin, drinking and talking with a girl who was in a polyamorous relation. Never knew before that what it meant. I assumed it worked like an open relationship, and she corrected me there. Whereas I thought she was just free to sleep around with whomever she wished, it happened that she was actually nurturing three separate and meaningful relationships with three very different partners."

I pause, thinking back on the foggy memories of that night, the smoke in the club, the loud music, the beer bottles fallen on the table, the look of the girl talking to me with her black-rimmed glasses, her dark bangs and her red lipstick.

Thinking about that night in Berlin when I realized my life was a complete mess. That night that planted the seeds of doubt that maybe the love of my life, my Louise, my blue rose, was not the right person for me. That this girl I just met in front of me was describing me three beautiful and wholesome relationships when mine was but a pantomime of love, a sad farce only filled with pain, ordinary violence and mistrust.

"She explained to me the difference between fidelity and loyalty, and it amazed me. And, up to this day, this concept of being loyal to your partner, being always there for them emotionally and being honest is one on which I base every of my relationships. I think it's something that should be cherished in any relationship, polyamorous or not."

Jiwon nods.

"It's a nice concept," he adds. "A very natural one too. I think it's much more natural to be loyal to a lover than to vow sexual and emotional exclusivity. But the key rests in honesty and in communication."

I hum. The radio plays a sad song from a band I like. I contemplate the scenery passing by at high speed. The sky is charged with clouds. It will surely start to snow soon. I muffle a yawn.

"Hey, don't be scared to sleep if you're tired. I won't mind," Jiwon says. "I can turn off the radio is you want."

"No, it's fine," I answer. "I like this song. But yeah, maybe I'll try to sleep a bit. The night's been short."

The young man chuckles, eyes on the road. I look again outside the window, and soon the sound of the engine and the soft melody of the radio lull me into slumber. 

~ °°° ~

I wake up some time before arriving in Suwon. Seungyoon is still fast asleep on the backseat, his earphones dropped on his lap.

"Could you drop us at a gas station somewhere?" I ask Jiwon. "I need to fill the tank of my bike before the rest of the trip."

"Sure thing," he answers.

We stop at a gas station a couple of kilometers away from Suwon. I get off the truck, and open the door to the backseat. I sit next to Seungyoon, putting my hand on his chest and softly shaking him. He grunts, opening an eye. I give him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up."

I smile, watching him emerge from slumber. 

"We're already in Seoul?" He asks with a drowsy voice.

I chuckle.

"Not yet. We still have an hour and a half to do by bike. Come, I'll get you a coffee."

I leave him to gather his wits while I help Jiwon load off the motorcycle from the cab. It's dark outside, and feathery snowflakes lazily fall from the sky, only visible when they pass under the light of the lampposts.

Seungyoon comes out of the car, stretching his arms and yawning, then walks to join Jiwon and me by the cab.

"Thank you for the lift," he says, shaking Jiwon's hand. 

He then looks at me.

"Is it okay if I wait for you inside?" He asks, pointing at the convenience store. "I'll get started on the coffees."

I nod, not impervious to the black cloud that seems to float above his head. Seungyoon spins around and enters the store with his head down and slumped shoulders.

"Is your friend okay?"

I turn to Jiwon who watches Seungyoon disappear through the door. 

"He's not feeling great today."

I put a hand on Jiwon's shoulder.

"But thank you. Really. For the lift. And the chat."

Jiwon smiles.

"It was nice to talk with you too," he answers as he fumbles in the pocket of his coat. "And if you want to catch up some time, here's my number."

He hands me out a crumpled sticky note. I take the yellow piece of paper between my fingers, giving it a strange look, before putting it in my own pocket.

"If you need anything, you know. A good talk. Coffee. Drinks. Whatever. Just call me."

I nod, gracing him with a little smile as an answer. He chuckles, shaking my hand. 

"Have a good trip back home, Minho."

"You too, Jiwon."

Jiwon pats my shoulder and walks back to enter his truck. I watch him drive out of the parking. Then, I roll my bike to the pumping station to fill the tank.

~ °°° ~

When I enter the store, Seungyoon is sitting by the front window, looking particularly gloomy. I sit next to him, in front of a goblet of cooled off coffee.

"How are you feeling?"

Seungyoon taps his finger on the lid of his cup. 

"Weird."

I watch him nimble on his lower lip. There's this line between his eyebrows again. We stay silent. Me, looking for better words to express my support. Him, with his face closed, locked in the same silence as this morning, on the fence of the hostel.

After a moment, Seungyoon moves his hand to caress mine on the table, the tips of his fingertips running on my skin. His head leans on my shoulder.

"Hey, I know we kinda had plans for tonight, and I'm sorry... but can you just drop me at my place instead? I would prefer being alone in my things and think a bit."

A knot forms in my chest. That old fear creeping up again. I circle my arm around him, pulling him against me, stroking his hair.

"Of course. I understand that. I'll get you home when you're ready."

Seungyoon looks at me, a sad smile on his lips.

"Thank you."

I take a sip of the coffee. The muddy taste of the cheap cold liquid rolls in my mouth. I wince and put the cup in the bin next to the table. 

~ °°° ~

All the way to Seungyoon's apartment building, thoughts run in my head. The pain in my chest accentuates. I feel the urge to tell him, tell him I don't want us to part. Not now, not in two days.

But I can get myself to interfere with his desire to be alone. I think about my discussion with Jiwon earlier.

Loyalty. Respect. Honesty.

Things I should owe Seungyoon if we ever decide to pursue this thing between us. But what do I do now?

I stop the bike in front of the apartment building. Seungyoon gets off. I don't move, feeling the ghost of his body against mine. I open the visor of my helmet, while he takes his bag in the luggage case. He then takes a couple of steps away from the motorcycle, hesitating.

"Do you want your jacket back?" Seungyoon asks, with a really small voice.

I shake my head in my helmet.

"Keep it for now, I answer. Just be sure to give it back to me before you leave."

My heart splits, my voice cracks. Seungyoon looks at me, a shadow of uneasiness passing over his face before he sketches a soft smile.

"Of course. I'll make sure to do that."

He walks over to me. 

"Take off your helmet," he whispers.

I take it off, strands of my tousled hair sticking on my forehead. Seungyoon takes my cheeks in his hands and kisses me.

Softly.

Gently.

Tenderly.

I repress the tears coming to my eyes, the waves of sorrow and the fireworks in my stomach as his plump lips press on mine.

"Call me. Tomorrow," Seungyoon says when he leans back. His thumb caresses my left cheek. 

_I love you._

The words stay stuck in my throat. Seungyoon leans to kiss me again.

"Good night, Minho."

The knot in the back of my throat makes me croak in return.

"Good night, darling."

Seungyoon smiles and walks to the front door of his building, waving at me one last time before entering the elevator. Cold wind whips my ears, the tears freezing in the corner of my eyes.

I take out my phone, dialing the only number I can think of. The only person that could hear me right now. Like he did so many times before. 

It rings once, twice. Jihoon answers.

"Hey Minho! You're back?"

A sob gets trapped in my chest. I can't speak.

"Minho, are you alright?" Jihoon's voice is full of concern.

I finally spit it out.

"I'm in love, Jihoon. And I'm scared of making the same mistakes again."


	23. Memories of Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains scenes of violence and psychological and physical abuse.

**{Minho}**

**{a few years back}**

When I was in college, back in Seoul, I imagined Paris to be this magical and romantic place. Once I landed there, ready to start a new chapter of my life, I soon learned that Paris was a cold city like any other metropolis. I was a stranger in the eyes of those who crossed my path. I spent my days attending classes, and walking around, taking pictures of my surroundings. But I felt miserably alone.

Until I met _her._

A miracle in a stern city.

An odd beauty in a grey and dirty place.

Something pretty, unusual, and rare.

A blue rose hiding her thorns.

My first months spent in Paris were an utter living nightmare. I thought I left Seoul, my friends and my family behind to find my true self and become an adult. It didn't take much time for me to realize that I was still a child lost in a foreign city.

The shock was significant: the language barrier, the eeriness of the city, my first steps in university, everything was heavy and crushed me. In my classes, I didn't make any friends. I was the odd one out, the foreign student everybody looked down upon. Even my French teacher, a tutor I was meeting in cafes to help me learn and perfect my understanding of the language, treated me like I was an idiot.

So I spent all my free time on my own, roaming around Paris, this majestic, but filthy city, full of history and beauty, but also cold and crude. 

I lived in the student residences near campus, in a shabby little room that smelled like mothballs and mold. I tried to be there as little as possible, leaving very early in the morning and only coming home to sleep late in the evening. I used to cry myself to sleep each night, listening to the sound of the TV in the neighbor's room through the paper-thin walls. At that point, I was convinced I made a mistake. Convinced that my desire for adventure and freedom was a sham.

I was too ashamed to call my parents or my friends back home to confide in them.

I just endured my burden and pursued my studies.

Alone.

And then I met Louise. 

When she came to talk to me in the coffee shop, asking about my camera —asking about me—, I felt seen for the first time in months. She was splendid in her blue dress, with her piercing blue eyes, and she smelled like jasmine and musk.

And I entered her world. Like Alice in the mirror, I now had access to a new universe, being able to know what it felt like to really breathe and live under the Parisian clouds.

At first, we had these photography dates where we would go anywhere and take pictures. Louise knew the most unbelievable of places. Deserted railroads, underpasses, abandoned factories, narrow backstreets. She was always impressed with my techniques, saying repetitively that she didn't believe that I just started studying visual arts and photography a few months before. Louise always knew how to flatter me, to lull me in the comfort of my ego, just to get what she wanted from me. But I only learned that when it was too late and I was in too deep in her web, because, at that time, I was just starting to feel something new towards her, something I foolishly called love.

One day —maybe it was on our third or fourth venture together in the city—, she told me about a project she was working on. Nude portraits in the city landscape. She used to study ballet and contemporary dance before, and she had this vision of blending in the structures and the architecture of Paris by integrating her body in the urban environment, transforming it and deconstructing its movements. She wanted me to help her.

"You have a good eye for portraits and landscapes," I remember her saying. "You understand the composition of a good image. There something in the way you see things that is unique to you. And I want your vision in my project."

I already had seen nude models in my drawing and painting classes. It wasn't something I was uneasy around anymore. But seeing Louise step out of her clothes, in some narrow staircase, and metamorphose herself through the lens of my Leica, bending her back, leaning her legs on the walls, on the stairs, her arms stretched out in impossible manners, it charmed me, bewitched me. I often use those words to describe the effect Louise had on me, like she threw some kind of spell on the young and naive adult I was, but she did mesmerize me. I felt I shared something precious with her, a sensuous connection that was only ours, and no one else's. At night, in the dark of my moldy room, I saw again in my head the angles of her contorted body, and I imagined the texture of her skin, the tension of her muscles under my touch. I could see the curve of her breasts, I fantasize on the sensation of her pink nipples between my teeth, of my tongue running along her body tasting like city dust and perspiration from the strain of her arabesques.

We did a lot of these sessions, either in the early morning or at night, playing with the crude light of the dawn or the shadows of the dusk. She would ask me to meet her in unusual places she chose, and I knew she never wore clothes beneath her long coat, except her high heels. Sometimes she kept them on, incorporating the metallic arches of her shoes in her poses, making them reminiscent of the wrought iron of the window bars on the buildings around us. And sometimes she took them off, letting me capture with my camera the foul contrast of her pale feet naked on the filthy pavement. 

And one night, after being chased from the empty parking lot by a security guard, we took refuge in a narrow alley at the bend of the street. There, with Louise leaning against the wall, I savoured her lips for the first time, tasting her tongue, her perfume mixing with a sweet sweat of our run. She answered my kiss ferociously and we spent long minutes making out in the hustle and bustle of the nearby subway and the rhythm of the nocturnal city.

From that day forward, I only lived and breathed for her. 

I met her friends, who, to my surprise, were already calling me _Louise's boy_ amongst themselves, telling me how she kept my identity as a secret from them for all these months. I was initiated to the nightlife. Her apartment was the gathering place of young artists, authors, and students in art, literature or philosophy. I recognized some of the faces from my classes in the bunch. And just like that I became friends with her friends. I felt the discussions I had with them helped me improve my French a lot, so I ditched my mean tutor to spend more time drinking, smoking and talking with those people who gave me the impression of caring about my words, my stories, despite the somewhat broken syntax of my sentences. I wasn't the idiot or the stranger. I was part of the group. I used to stay in Louise's apartment entire nights, leaving in the morning after very little sleep to go to my seminars. After two months, I decided to leave my shitty room in the residences to settle down at Louise's house, offering her to pay half of the rent if she could lend me a pillow in her bed and a corner in the apartment to put down my stuff. 

Everything was going great. Between the parties, the chilling nights, the love making and the arts, our lives had this frenetic pace. 

I bought blank canvases, tubes of colors, brushes and an easel. And that's how I started painting. On my own. Outside of any academic context. I started painting for me, as a new way to express myself. And I could immediately feel it was easier for me to communicate the deep and complicated feelings and thoughts I had through painting. It grounded me. Gave me peace where there was none. Sometimes, when the sound and fury of my drunken friends eventually wore me down, I locked myself in my bubble in the middle of the racket, the empty bottles and the full ashtrays, with my colors and my brushes and went into my head. These art therapy sessions provided me with a sense of harmony and equilibrium.

And, always, after hours of watching me paint out of the corner of her eye, Louise would inevitably go looking for me, take me by the hand and lead me to our room, under the screams and whistles of the gang in the living room. She always brought me back to her, drew me in closer, making sure I get lost in her caresses. She made love to me to keep me from sleeping every night. To remind me that I was hers, and that, as far deep as I was in my head when I painted, I was hers above anything else. I was _Louise's boy._ Always.

Slowly her thorns pricked my heart. And I painted her in my every piece, a blue rose always standing out on the canvas.

There was one guy, amidst my bunch of new friends, that I learned to love dearly. His name was Christian and he used to study visual arts like me, before he dropped out and started working in a tattoo parlour around the block. He had a sensitive soul, and a calmness to him that I didn't find in others.

Many times at night, when the party was becoming too wild in the apartment, we would sneak out and take a walk on the streets to enter the tattoo shop by the back door. There, I would let Christian work the needle on my body, letting him practice his skills on my skin as he pleased. I enjoyed the numbing sensation of the needle etching on my body, the pressure of his fingers on me. We would spend the night talking, laughing together.

Our friendship was tender, soft, gentle, giving me something that was perhaps lacking in my relationship with Louise. I loved the way he looked at me fondly, when he lifted his eyes from the drawings on my skin to listen to my stories. These simple moments in the dead of the night felt like an oasis of peace, another place I could take refuge from the chaos around me.

One night, I said I wanted him to ink a blue rose on my chest. Christian looked at me with his grey eyes and asked why.

"Because it's her," I simply answered.

I could swear I saw a hint of pain in his eyes, before he nodded and started prepping the color inks. It was the last tattoo he did on me. He left for Brussels some time after that, and we never crossed paths again.

With Christian disappearing without a word and the final year of my program approaching, I found fewer and fewer reasons to spend time with the people coming in and out of the apartment. And it showed in Louise's mood.

That's when things got a bit scarier. 

She was partying way harder, trying to get me to follow her in her excesses, and becoming angrier with my constant rebuffs. Some nights, she would do drugs or drink a lot while I slept and I'd wake up in the middle of the night to her fucking some of her friend in the bed next to me.

The first time it happened, I panicked, wondering what was going on, and, when it dawned on me, I just tried faking to be asleep. But it only fucked me up more. The next day, I got dressed quickly, forcing me not to look at the naked passed-out bodies in our bed, and went to my classes. When I came back, I tried to confront Louise, asking her what the actual hell happened. I was hurt, and I may have shouted. She threw her coffee cup at me in anger. It broke on the floor with a bang.

"It's my fucking home. I'll do what I want."

She spitted her words to my face. I was boiling with rage.

"I pay half of the rent. It's my fucking home too."

"Is it?" She just hissed.

She pushed me from her and walked away to the bathroom, pointing nonchalantly at the pieces of porcelain on the floor.

"You should clean this mess up. We wouldn't want someone to get hurt."

She left, and I hesitated for minutes between follow her and continue arguing, or break every plate and cup in the cupboards. I finally just walked to my paintings and cut myself from the rest of the world, letting my anger dissipate, melt in the colors of my brushes. It may have been an hour, maybe more, before I felt Louise sneak up behind me, and embrace my body with hers. Her head rested on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, kissing the crook of my neck.

Her hands found their way under my shirt, down on my pants. Her lips latched on my mouth, as she pulled me down to lay on the floor. Her tongue still tasted the chemicals she took the night before, her features drawn and tired.

"It's the shit I took. Plays on my mood. I'm sorry."

She brought my hands to her breast, making them squeeze the plump flesh.

"I love you. You know that, right? I only love you. No one else," she said.

And I let her make love to me to make amends, letting her once again draw me in closer, instead of running away like I should have done, had I known my pain would only grow.

Because it happened a second time. I woke up to her moaning in the middle of the night, and I was washed away by sadness. I got up and went to sleep in the bath, only to wake up in physical and emotional pain in the next morning, and facing a furious Louise again, playing out the exact same scenario as the previous time.

Spitting her venom to hurt me, before apologizing with the gentlest of touches, fucking me in this forgetful bliss, telling me it would never happen again.

The third time it happened, I said _fuck it_. I got out of the bed in a swift move, grabbed my pack of cigarettes and I didn't even bother to dress up before leaving the room. Louise, her head between the legs of a loud moaning girl, was too busy to notice anything anyway. The house looked empty. I walked to the dim-lit kitchen where a guy drank alone at the table, a friend of Louise coming from England with the girl I believed Louise was so fervently loving in the bedroom.

"They woke you up, uh?" he asked me, chuckling.

I gave him an annoyed look.

"Leah can be quite loud sometimes," he continued.

I shrugged my shoulders, opening the window and lighting up a cigarette.

"It's always like that when we come to see Louise. They have this connection," the guy kept on rambling. 

I tried to ignore him, looking outside the window. 

"You're the one they call _Louise's toy_ , right?"

His sentence hit me hard. It wasn't the first time I noticed the expression changed when it was whispered by people around me, but, up to this point, I thought I misheard them. The guy lifted himself from his chair and walked up to me, gesturing me to take the bottle of whisky.

"Want a sip?"

I threw out my cigarette outside, and took the bottle from his hand. The man laughed as he got closer.

"You know, you look angry. Maybe it would do you good if you let other people play with you, instead of waiting on Louise."

I clenched my teeth, feeling his breath on my face, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. I was angry again. I wanted to destroy everything around me. A dark energy boiled inside me, a mix of pain and a violent turmoil turning me on. My fingers closed on his throat as I leaned forward, hissing between my teeth, looking him straight in the eyes.

"You wanna try me?" I remember saying, tightening my grip on his sweaty neck.

He pushed me hard against the wall as an only answer, banging my head on the window pane when our teeth clashed. I was stunned. His beard scratched my face, his breath stank, but the dark fire burning me from inside just demanded more pain, more violence, in a way that scares me even today, years after it happened. I broke off the kiss, and threw a punch at his face. He grunted, punched me back twice as hard. My head hurt, spontaneous tears probably mixing with the blood I tasted on my lips. The man kissed me forcefully, pulling down my boxers to squeeze my hard-on.

"You like that, uh?" he croaked, before bending me over the table.

I heard him spit and I felt the wetness spread between my ass cheeks. But before I could even acknowledge what was going to happen, the man grabbed my hair and banged my head on the table as he penetrated me roughly. I let out a cry, but the pain and the fear just nourished my unquenchable need for destruction. I grabbed my own dick and jerked off while the man spitted again, ramming in my ass. I remember he bit me hard on the shoulder when he came, banging my head again on the table.

It took me a minute to stop my head from spinning.

"You're a good toy," I heard him slur in my back. "Wouldn't mind trading with Louise if she wants to have Leah instead."

I shook my head, painfully pulling up my boxers. I grabbed the bottle of whisky fallen on the table, took a long burning sip without even giving a look at the man behind me. Then, I went to my room, took out some clothes from my dresser. The girls were softly talking in the bed, oblivious to the ruckus we made in the kitchen. I locked myself in the bathroom, took a shower to clean the blood and the cum off my body. Then, with my legs shaking, I got dressed. When I left the bathroom, I heard Louise's voice asking me where I was going. I didn't answer and left the apartment. 

I walked a couple of minutes. My ass hurt, I was pretty sure it was bleeding too. I lied down on a park bench. I felt like passing out, but at least the indescribable fury that took over me had vanished. It left me terrified, though. Terrified that I had so much pain, anger and self-hate inside me. I closed my eyes, only to open them hours later in the pale sunlight.

I walked back to the apartment. The man and the girl were gone. There was only Louise, smoking a cigarette in the kitchen. I winced, replaying last night's scene in my head.

"I know you let him fuck you," she whispered, in a flat tone, flicking the ashes of her cigarette in an empty glass on the table. One that wasn't broken during the fight.

"It's not like we're even from all the times you slept with other people," I retorted, nastily.

Louise lifted up her gaze to meet mine, and I saw the tears in her blue eyes. 

"Did he hurt you?" she asked, her voice suddenly gentle. 

I stayed silent, reaching for a cigarette in my pocket. 

"You should get yourself checked at the clinic."

"Yeah, I'll do that," I mumble.

There is a silence again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

I took a puff of my smoke.

"I threw them out. I don't want any of this anymore. The parties, the booze, the drugs, the sex, I don't want to live fast anymore."

She fell into silence. I looked outside, the crude light of the sun bathing my face. 

"I want to be with you now. Only you."

I turned to glance at her defeated posture, the weariness of her limbs, crumbling on her chair, the tears falling down her cheeks.

"I want us to have a true little nest for two. Just us. You and me. Please. I'm sorry."

Her plea made my heart sink. She looked like a little broken girl, lost and fragile. She sobbed harder.

I nodded intently, looking directly in her eyes.

"Okay, I said. Let's try. But if anything like that ever happens again, I'm out."

That's where I made the same mistakes over and over again.

I held on a flawed relationship, stubbornly digging deeper into it in the belief that anchoring myself in it will solve problems, when I was just closing my eyes and refusing to see the real underlying issues.

And I was foolish enough to give my love to someone who had nothing to give me, but everything to take from me.

After that day, the mood shifted for the best. Louise was gentle and playful. I found in her the friend I fell in love with some years ago. Since I spent a lot of time on campus, in the library and in the workshops as the end of my degree drew near, I cherished the moments I shared with Louise, in the comfort of our apartment, just us two lovebirds.

I lived entirely on the money my parents gave me for the rent, the food and the tuition. So when I had the crazy idea of giving Louise a pledge of love, I pawned my most valuable possession, my Leica, to get her a very simple diamond ring. It was whimsical gesture, but Louise was delighted.

Everything went well for a whole year until I finished my degree.

Having nothing else to do, I started working with her on her projects, and I slowly noticed her nervousness. I was I little too naive at the time, and our year-long perfect idyll lulled my mind to the possibility that maybe my constant presence in the apartment, now that I wasn't going to school anymore, put a hold on things she used to do when I was usually gone. 

In April of that year, I took the train to Berlin to attend a week-long painting workshop at the Berlin Art Institute. It was something I wanted to do for a long time, and it was the first time I left Paris since I arrived more than three years earlier. I viewed this trip has a gift for myself, something to celebrate the closing chapter of my art degree.

I met lots of interesting new people during that week. I went out into underground clubs, listened to music I never heard before. That's where I met that polyamorous girl who told me about her life, her relationships. And that's when I realized the flaws of my own relationship. Louise's sharp, but empty criticism when I presented my works to her, the way she played the victim every time I expressed myself about something that hurt me. The bickering that came out of nowhere for small details. The insults that Louise would hurl at me, and the dishes that would burst on the wall, before she would apologize to me before dragging me in between the sheets. The love stories described by the girl in the club, unconventional but oh so healthy, felt like a slap in my face. A cold shower revealing my foolishness.

When I came back to Paris, Louise was cold and distant. I could see from the state of the apartment, of her face and her body that she probably used drugs and partied again in my absence. I found things around the house that wasn't ours. Even the sheets of the bed smelled like sweat and alcohol. But she didn't even let me ask her about it. She threw a fit, saying I cheated on her. That I surely spent my week fucking other people in nightclubs and painting studios. She hit me. Multiple times. Spit on me. Threw everything she could grab. Yelled. Cried.

She threw me out. 

Saying she never wanted to see me again. 

She slammed the door on me. 

That night, I slept at the hotel. The next morning, she was gone with her things, the rest of the apartment was thrashed. All my paintings were destroyed, the canvases lacerated, and my belongings reduced to garbage. 

And, in a very vibrant blue, probably coming from the same paint that I used to paint her in the shape of a rose, were those two words written on the wallpaper, taunting me.

_FUCK YOU_

**{end of flashback}**


	24. Overcoming Fears (Day 7)

**Wednesday, January 9 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

The sun shines through the ochre mist of a light smog. The air is cold, and it's a blessing because I'm sweating the life out of my pores in my shirt. Good thing I was feeling sentimental this morning and chose to wear Minho's jacket instead of my long wool coat, because the steep flights of stairs of Ihwa Mural Village painfully remind me that I am not in such good shape after all.

I am happy I brought my digital camera too, because, at the rate to which I'm taking pictures, I would have gone through all the film spares I brought to Seoul. It seems every wall, staircase and window pane around me demand that I capture their vibrant colors and drawings. 

The streets are quiet; the perks of taking a walk on a cold January morning. I am left alone with the sound of my own footsteps echoing on the pavement.

I'm glad I get to spend some time to myself, just to wander at the whim of my thoughts and reflect on the rollercoaster of emotions I felt in the last days.

I like being alone. If breaking up with Jaebum helped me learn one thing about myself, it's that I like my loneliness. It seems my thoughts are clearer when I'm alone.

And even though I wish I had spent the night with Minho again, I do feel I needed to get things straight in my head, take a step back and breathe in. Because every fiber of my body and soul begged to keep Minho close to me and do everything in my power to never let him go.

I thought about it yesterday, about staying here. I thought about how I would manage to get Thor to join me and just move to Seoul.

And to think I was this close to repeat the same mistake I did with Jaebum, and be ready to leave everything behind again for someone, is killing me. 

That's why I feel so bad about the way I turned down Minho last night. But, torn between the thought of wanting him always at my side, and the turmoil of my regrets, my sorrows and my fears, I decided I couldn't just let him suffer my mood swings all evening.

When I arrived at my place yesterday, after kissing Minho goodbye, I showered and changed into looser clothes. I sat down on the heating floor and scrolled on my phone. I wrote back to Jinwoo and Hoony. I texted my mom, telling her I was back in Seoul. Jinwoo called me, but I didn't answer. I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

I ate everything that was left in the fridge. The not-so-good-anymore take-out Minho had ordered when he spent the night here three days ago; all the stuff Miyoung gave me when I left her house on Sunday. As I was microwaving a bowl of instant rice, I noticed my supper was missing something. I put on a hoody and got downstairs to the convenience store to buy a bottle of soju and a large can of Cass beer. When I left the store, I peeked through the front door window, almost hoping to see Minho's motorcycle. But the parking was empty. I got back to my apartment, turned on the TV and ate, while mixing myself some _somaek_ in one of the only two coffee mugs in the cupboards. 

Some music show was playing at a very low volume on the TV. I fell down on the bed and scrolled once again through the yellow phone Minho gave me. I was tempted to call him. Even though I liked my loneliness, nothing compared to what I felt in his presence.

But I didn't call him. Instead, I swapped through the apps on the phone, and I stumbled on a folder with a picture of Minho as a thumbnail. As I clicked on it, I realized it was access to some cloud of his, filled with old pictures. I smiled, discovering Minho's childish face, his chubby cheeks, his careless smile. There were pictures of him with someone that looked like Jihoon, in school uniforms. Some pictures of what looked like Paris too. Faces of strangers that maybe held a special place in Minho's heart.

On one of these pictures, a woman, with ash-blond hair. The photo was taken with an aggressive flash; everything around the overexposed silhouette of the girl was drowned in darkness. She had a glass of white wine in one hand, a cigarette between her fingers. The strap of her blue dress falling down her shoulder, revealing the curve of a breast, small, plump, a pink nipple lost in the light of her body. Her eyes were enticing, but they seemed to mock the photographer. The picture unsettled me. I closed the folder, feeling like I looked at something I shouldn't. I tried to think of something else. I poured myself another shot of soju in my beer, and drank it down. I turned off the TV, lied down again in my bed. Thinking about the eyes of the woman in the picture.

I climb up a flight of narrow stairs up to a gazebo on a hill. The upperview of Seoul in the morning is majestic. My mind wanders to that girl again. Was it her? His ex? The one who left him in Paris?

I really feel like I saw something I shouldn't have. I remember what Minho told me on our way to Busan, about his long healing process. It feels weird to think of Minho as the one going through heartbreak, when I am under the impression I'm the only one trapped in this role right now. Trapped to the point of being a burden to him. 

He did look sad, though, last night. I could swear I saw tears in his eyes when I kissed him.

Am I screwing this up by overthinking everything? 

I don't know which foot to dance on anymore. I don't want to lose him. But I need to put the cards on the table. 

Will Minho be always destined to be a travel fling?

Do I ask him to come to Toronto with me? 

Is it really that out of question to establish a long-distance relationship?

I sit on a bench and watch the city through the wire mesh. 

What do I want? Really?

I sigh and take out my phone, wondering if I should wait for his call, or just call him now.

I know I'm not a hundred-percent ready to start a new relationship. I'm far from that. But I don't want to go back to Toronto and leave Minho behind, not knowing what we are to each other.

Because, beyond doubts and up to the point that it hurts me to think that our hours together are numbered, the last days proved to me that I would like to have a life with Minho.

My daily dose of Song Minho.

An everyday life filled with love and the warmth of his presence.

I click on Minho's ID, bringing the phone to my ear. It rings, but no one answers. 

I sigh again, tightening the collar of my jacket, looking at the mountain range in the distance, the foggy sky and the details of the city before me. 

I'll try later.

* * *

**{Minho}**

My phone rings again, pulling me away from my thoughts. I shake my head, put down my brush and get up to the kitchen to look at my phone.

It's Seungyoon.

Again.

I hesitate. It's the third time he calls. I wasn't in the right mindset to answer the previous times, so I let it go into voicemail. But now, I can just ignore him again. He did tell me to call him when we parted yesterday, and I didn't. 

Yesterday.

It seems to be so far already. 

The night spent painfully awake, painting, thinking, reminiscing did play at lots of tricks on my mind.

Maybe I should take a nap. 

I can't believe how being so close to Seungyoon so quickly triggered some of the insecurities I thought were long gone. And, even though I know he has very good reasons to be cautious, I felt sad and incredibly vulnerable to be pushed away again for the second time in a week. It's those moments spent without him, the excruciating pinch in my heart during those moments spent without him took me down memory lane. And it wasn't a pleasant journey.

Falling in love, after so many years, is scary. I've been fond of people that crossed my path, people I slept with on a semi-regular basis, but, since Louise, I've never let someone get close to me like Seungyoon did. 

It frightens me to recognize, in the bundle of my hazed emotions for Seungyoon, some of very similar feelings I had for Louise. I spent the night thinking about that, calling Jihoon, talking to him, hanging up, thinking some more, calling him back up, just to make sure I wasn't making a mistake.

Just to make sure that what I felt for Seungyoon wouldn't transform itself, that I wasn't going to run through the same pattern of denial, nurturing a feeling of fear, anger and self-hate, that I worked so hard on deconstructing for the past two years. 

Talking to Jihoon helped me put my fears in check, and rationalize the situation. Jihoon helped me peruse the dread that was eating me up. Once again, he led me to see that what I have with Seungyoon is nowhere near what I experienced in Paris. And probably never will be.

I truly don't know what I would do without Jihoon. He traced back with me every little step I took to better myself, to heal myself when I came back in Seoul.

He told me I was okay. 

He told me everything would be fine. 

As long as I talked to Seungyoon.

As long as I didn't keep all these emotions bottled up inside.

So I know now that if I answer that call, I'll be one step closer to confess my feelings to Seungyoon, allowing us to talk through the issues and maybe, I hope, find a middle ground to stand. Together.

But it gives me the jitters just to think about it.

My phone keeps ringing. 

I take a deep breath, and I answer. My throat is dry. I walk to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water while I hear Seungyoon's voice at the end of the line.

"Hey! How are you?"

I take a sip of water, wondering if I give him the long or the short answer.

"I'm okay. You? Feeling better?"

"Yes, I am."

There is a small silence before Seungyoon continues.

"Do you want to pick up the plans I bailed on yesterday?"

"You mean you want to come here?" I ask, feeling a bit of nervousness crawl inside my body, keeping me for finding the right thing to say.

Or maybe the last 18 hours spent alone in my head ate up all the words in my vocabulary.

"Yeah," replies Seungyoon. "I thought I could make us food. If you want."

I try to get a hold on myself, find my ground back. Just not to sound too dazed and distant. I gulp another sip of water before answering.

"Yeah, sure. Text me what you need to cook and I'll go get the groceries."

Bye-bye napping time. 

"Okay!"

His voice rings clear and bright and I can almost see Seungyoon's smile beam up through the phone. 

"I'll make pasta!" he continues. "Can you give me your address? I'll text you when I leave my place. Let's say around 6:30?"

I look at the clock on the stove. It's already past 4PM. 

"Yeah, should leave me enough time."

"Okay. See you soon!"

I hang up, and look around my apartment with a slight touch of panic. Although, the good point of having spent the last hours in my painting room is that the rest of the house seems to be reasonably clean. 

I get off of my painting apron and rush to the bathroom to take a shower, trying to scrub every milimeter of my body.

Gosh, I'm anxious.

Why am I so anxious?

When I get out of the shower, I try to find something to wear. Not too chic, not too casual, not too sloppy. Something that doesn't scream _I love you. I want you. Let's make love and forget about dinner_. 

But then again, maybe changing clothes won't help if that's written all over my face.

I sigh, settle on a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I grab my coat, my keys, and leave for the grocery store.

~ °°° ~

The ride outside the house helps me clear my head, the cold air acting like the best energizer I could dream of. 

I forgot how weird I can get when I lock myself up in my mind. Painting does bring me to truly beautiful places, but most of the time, it mainly takes me to the places my lost memories hide. I think about calling Jihoon again to thank him for his help, but after realizing that I called him at least four times last night, I settle on sending him a text message instead.

_Thank you Jihoon. you're the best friend I could ever have. I don't know what i'd do without you thank you_

I ride back home after getting all the ingredients on Seungyoon's list. While I'm putting the groceries in the kitchen cupboards, my phone dings. 

_I'm in the cab._

It's only a 7-minute ride from Seungyoon's place to mine. My hands are seized with a light tremor. I storm in my room again, cleaning up the mess I made while changing my outfit a thousand times. I look at myself in the mirror.

Is that shirt too revealing?

Last minute's doubts.

My fingers roam on the low-cut collar. Johnny jumps off the bed and rubs herself against my legs, adding a layer of orange hair to my black pants. I shriek, and spin on myself to find the lint roller amongst the things lying on my bed stand.

But before I do find it, the bell rings. 

I let out a small shout and run to the entrance, tripping over the cat. I stop in the lobby, breathe in, my hand on the door knob, and finally open the door. Seungyoon enters, wearing his long coat, a beanie hat and fogged-up glasses. He gives me a bag.

"Hey. Here's your jacket."

I take the bag from his hands and drop it in the lobby, while he takes off his glasses to wipe the steam. He puts them back on and smiles shyly. 

"Hi," he says again.

"Hi," I answer. 

It's the first time I see him wear glasses since Hawaii. And it does make my heart beat a little faster, but not as much as the silence that follows where he just looks at me, and licks his lips for a split second, before greeting me again with a delicate smile. I take his hand.

"Come. I'll show you around."

I walk to the open space kitchen and let him look around the living room. 

"Do you want to drink something? I got wine if you want."

Seungyoon nods, and stops in his tracks to pet Johnny who's sleeping on the edge of the couch, like she didn't try to kill me 5 minutes ago. 

"Hello Johnny. I'm glad to finally meet you," I hear Seungyoon purrs to my cat. 

I chuckle, somewhat touched by his silly and sweet mood. I take a bottle of red wine from the cellar and try to open it gracefully, but my hands are too shaky. Seungyoon looks up and laughs, seeing me struggle.

"Okay, give me that. I've got bartending skills."

I feel my cheeks flush as I let out a little laugh of defeat and hand out the bottle to Seungyoon who expertly opens it with a pop. I get two glasses on the kitchen block and Seungyoon pours down the wine. I glance at his concentrated face, his eyes looking over the frame of his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose. His pout transforms into a large smile when he successfully pours the same quantity of liquid in the cups. I can't keep myself from biting my lip in a smile when he lifts his glass to cheer. I grab mine and look him in the eyes.

"What should we cheer about?" he asks.

I roll my glass between my fingers, gazing in the vermilion color. His question pulls me back to my uncertainties. 

"I don't know. What do you think we should cheer about?"

Seungyoon lets out a nervous laugh. 

"I don't know either. Let's just cheer to our evening together."

We cheer, awkwardly. The wine tastes bitter on my tongue, but it warms my throat, and it brings more color to Seungyoon's cheeks. We spend long minutes just gazing at one another, on each side of the kitchen block, sipping wine. Seungyoon looks particularly beautiful tonight. He seems to glow under the neon lights of the kitchen. But maybe it's the sleepless night taking again its toll on my perceptions.

"What?" Seungyoon asks. 

I chuckle. 

"Nothing."

Seungyoon smirks.

"Then, let's start boiling the water for the pasta," Seungyoon says, turning around to rummage through the cupboards.

I walk around the counter and open a door next to the sink. 

"There, I'll help you," I say, taking out a large pot and opening the faucet to fill it with water.

Seungyoon gets closer, and slides his hand on my lower back as I get the pot on the gas stove, and crank the ignition button. I smile at his touch.

"I never cooked on a gas stove before," Seungyoon says with a small voice, his chin leaning on my shoulder. 

I turn to slip my hand around his waist, our bodies joined by the hips. Seungyoon's hand goes up to my face and caresses my cheek, before tracing the lines of my lips.

"You have such pretty lips," he says, almost absentmindedly. "They're shaped just like a heart."

He licks his lips and leans in to give me a kiss so soft and wet I feel fire coursing in my back. His cheeks are somewhat still cold from outside, but his lips burn me. I kiss him back, locking my arms around him. 

"I missed you," he whispers in my embrace. 

I hug him tighter.

"Me too."

Seungyoon chuckles, stepping back after a moment, his face red.

"I feel so cheesy," he says. "Saying this like we haven't seen each other in months."

He looks up to me, and smiles.

"But I really did miss you today," he adds.

Seeing him so soft and cute, I can't resist the urge to I lean forward and suck on his lower lip, pushing him slowly against the counter, away from the stove. He moans lightly, taken by surprise. I let go of his lips by giving him a smaller kiss. 

"You know, cooking with a gas stove is not really different from an induction cooktop. Although, it's actually easier to control the temperature..."

But before I finish my sentence, Seungyoon's fingers grab my hips, and he pulls me closer. He presses his lips on me, as I lose my breath, feeling his growing hard-on rub against mine, his tongue asking the permission to enter my mouth again. I part my lips, tilting my head, and let our tongues dance together. My hands move up to Seungyoon's chest, then his neck, and then his hair. I'm losing control. I'm burning up, Seungyoon's kiss becoming more and more intense, his hands firmly keeping me close against him. I break the kiss before I fall in too deep. I need to keep my head clear, for an hour or two at least. Just enough to build up the courage to talk to him.

"Darling, the water is boiling," I say, moving towards the stove. "Can you pass me the pasta on the counter?"

It takes a second for Seungyoon to come down from his cloud and look around for what I asked. I laugh at his clueless expression, walking past him to get the pasta, and I stop to give him a small peck on the cheek.

Seungyoon grabs my arm as I move back from the stove, after putting the pasta in the boiling water. His lips are red and glistening. He looks down at his feet as he tugs on my hand, bringing me closer.

"I know we said we would let things flow the way they go without asking ourselves too many questions, but... what would you say if things got a little more serious between us?"

He pauses, lifting his gaze, and, meeting his pretty eyes, I find it hard to breathe properly.

"I thought a lot yesterday," he continues. "The last few days spent with you, getting to know you, were the most incredible thing that happened to me since, well, quite a while. And now I'm leaving in less than 36 hours, and I'm not ready to just do nothing about us at this point. I want you, Minho."

His voice sounds so sweet, uttering my name. I close my fingers on his, and bring his hand up to place a kiss on his knuckles.

"I wish you could stay longer," I finally manage to say, despite the knot in my throat.

Seungyoon gives me a rueful smile.

"I wish I could stay too. But I can't let Jinwoo run the shop on his own forever. Plus, I'm moving in my new place in a couple of weeks. And there is also a furry little guy waiting for me to come home."

I try to smile, but I only feel a hint of sadness. Seungyoon leans forward and kisses me. Such a tender kiss.

"You could come with me. Help me pack my life in cardboard boxes."

I thought about that.

I thought about leaving everything here to follow him.

I even told Jihoon about it yesterday. But then I realized it wouldn't be okay. It wouldn't be okay to sacrifice my projects for someone else.

Even if that special someone is Seungyoon.

"I have things here," I simply reply. "I can't just leave."

Seungyoon nods and chuckles.

"I know. I don't think it would be a good idea either. I lived through that. I wouldn't want you to experience the same thing."

There is a silence. Our chests are flushed together still, as we breathe at the same pace. 

"I want us to be something more, Minho. I don't want us to end this Friday when I board that airplane."

Seungyoon sighs.

"Please be a part in my life, Minho. Whichever part you want to be. Even if it's in a distance. But please share my life."

My heartbeat accelerates, throbbing in my ears, the four words on the tip of my tongue pumping the blood in my heart.

"I love you, Seungyoon."

I hear the water boiling. I'm pretty sure the pasta is overcooked at this point, but I don't care. Seungyoon's eyes twinkle as he lifts an eyebrow. The knot loosens in my chest; the words flow out on their own volution.

"I love you, Seungyoon," I carelessly repeat.

And before I confess a third time, Seungyoon grabs my face and pulls my mouth to his lips in a messy kiss. My hands are trembling, my whole body shaking against his. 

"I love you too, Minho."

It smells like something is burning. Seungyoon breaks our kiss and turns off the stove, then pulls me again in a sweet embrace.

"I love you so much."


	25. Attempting Dinner, Take Two (Day 7)

**Wednesday, January 9 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

How would I even dare moving away from such a perfect embrace? When I feel every inch of my body fizzle against his? When the muscles of his back roll beneath the tip of my fingers, setting up fireworks in my mind? When his breath is warm on my neck and his arms tight around my torso, his chest glued onto mine?

How would I be able to break from this hug, with my eyes shut, submerged by this feeling of peacefulness? How would I, when we inhale and exhale at the same time, hugging each other even tighter with every breath?

It feels so right. Our bodies joined in such a warm cuddle. Clinging on one another like we're afraid one of us may just evaporate into thin air after our confessions.

How would it even be possible to part once our hearts start beating together? Since I don't want to move from his arms, and I don't want him to move from mine either?

"This feels so good," Minho sighs in my neck, his low voice vibrating through my limbs. 

I feel his breath pass through the fabric of my shirt. I press my open hands on his shoulder blades, squeezing him more against me. His lips move to kiss my neck, his nose tickling the sensitive skin behind my ear. I reply in the same way, letting my lips gently move against his throat, the fingers of my left hand getting lost in the hair on his nape. 

This is too perfect to be true.

So close to dreams I had in my lonely bedroom back in Toronto.

But it's real, right? All of this? Seoul, Busan, Minho? Please tell me I am not just lost in the bliss of a long intricate dream.

I feel something rub against my leg. I look down and chuckle when I realize even Johnny joined the hug. 

Minho looks down too.

"It's her dinnertime," he says. "I usually feed her around this hour."

Minho glides his hands to my hips and leans in to plant a little kiss on my lips before stepping back. He walks to the cupboard, opens a can of cat food under Johnny's relentless meows, and puts it in her bowl as she rushes to gulp everything. 

"What about our dinner?" I ask, glancing at the pot of half burned, half soggy pasta.

Minho gives it a peek. 

"Maybe some of it can be salvaged..."

I frown, watching him drop strands of overcooked pasta in a plate. 

"You sure?"

He laughs, a little embarrassed. 

"I don't know... You want to order something else? Or maybe I have ramyun or some other edible food..."

I shake my head, chuckling, and take some of the vegetables on the counter. 

"It's fine, don't worry."

I give him my prettiest smile, before adding:

"I said I was making us dinner, so I'll do that. I think we'll have enough pasta to share a plate. I just need a knife, a chopping board and a large pan. Can you help me with those?"

Minho nods. While he roams in his kitchen, searching for the things I asked for, I take a look at his stance. His body seems to be moving in slow motion, his shoulders are stiff, his neck bent down a little more than usual. 

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask, stroking his arm when he brings me a chef's knife and a cutting board. "You seem tired."

"I didn't really sleep last night," he answers, his lips twisted in a somewhat shy smile. "I've actually been painting for the last 18 hours or so before you arrived."

My jaw opens in shock.

"How can you even be standing right now?"

Minho laughs.

"I drank a lot of coffee. And I guess you just... _energized_ me."

He winks. I snort as I start cutting mushrooms in quarters.

"I doubt I have such magical power."

He chuckles.

"To be honest, I got so nervous about you coming here, I forgot I was tired."

Minho takes the bottle of wine and pours more alcohol in our cups. I can't help but look at the way his white shirt reveals the tattoos on his chest when he leans on the table to push my glass next to the chopping board. He catches my glance and smirks.

"Seeing something you like?"

Gosh, I love it when he flirts with me so shamelessly.

I shake my head and grab something else to cut in pieces. I pout my lips in a smirk.

"Yeah, maybe I do."

Minho smiles and turns around to walk in the living room. I lift an eye to watch him browse through his vinyl records. I focus my attention back on the vegetables, and I finish cutting everything into bite size. It's been a while since I cooked anything, for me or for someone else. And, even, back in the days, Jaebum was the one cooking, not me. I barely had any opportunities to show my skills (or lack thereof) to anyone. 

Music starts floating in the apartment. It's an album I like a lot. Hearing it here is not that big of a surprise, since I know it's also one of Minho's favorite albums. We talked for hours and hours about the songs we loved back when I was giving him virtual tours of the record store and of my private collection some weeks ago. We were surprised at the time to realize we had a somewhat similar taste in music, sharing the same love and affection for a multitude of albums, artists and bands.

"Listening to music is such an intimate experience, I recall saying to him back then. Every song brings back the mood of a particular moment, the memory of a place or a person."

I remember Minho smiled at that last sentence.

"And sometimes, it doesn't even need to be such a special moment. All it takes is a little spark to infuse a song with the essence of an instant," he replied.

I liked that thought, it rang so true in my ears. I hope he remembers that discussion too. Because, right now, it fills me with the greatest comfort to think we'll get to create new memories to the sound of the songs we both love, giving them the power to one day make us relive our every moment spent together. 

Still lost my bittersweet thoughts, humming the melody of the song resonating in the apartment, I rummage in the fridge and in the cupboard to find some butter, a carton of broth and a package of already cooked pieces of chicken. I stop to take a sip of wine while Minho joins me back in the kitchen.

"How do you start the fire?" I ask, pointing at the stove.

"You can do something like that," Minho says, moving onto me, capturing my lips in a deep kiss, his hands roaming on my lower back, making me slightly sway to the rhythm of the music.

Yes, this could start a fire for sure.

I kiss him back, tasting his tongue, my fingers tugging at his belt. He smiles into our kiss, and take a small breath before plunging again, his lips latching onto mine in a wet sound. Minho's hands ground themselves on my waist as he leaves a trail of bites down on my neck, sucking on the skin of my collarbone.

"I wasn't talking about that fire," I manage to say, already breathless.

Minho drops his forehead on my shoulder and giggles. 

"Sorry about that. It was too tempting."

I chuckle. 

"At this rate, I'm starting to think you don't really want to eat dinner."

He lifts his head up and leaves a soft kiss on my lips. 

"Okay, then, I'll show you how the stove works."

He takes a large metal pan from the cupboard and puts it on the stove. I move to his side, sliding my hand in the back pocket of his pants, and gently squeeze his ass as I lean over his shoulder to look at what he does.

"You click this thing here until you see the fire. After that, you just turn it to adjust the power and the height of the flame. Are you okay with the rest?"

He turns to me, and I nod vigorously, smiling, wearing my cutest and most innocent face. I hear a phone ringing. Minho spins around, patting his pockets, before taking up his phone on the counter, next to his glass of wine. 

"It's Jihoon," he says, before picking up.

I go back to the hot pan and I start sautéing the vegetables in oil while Minho answers the call.

"Hey Jihoon!"

"Hi, Jihoon!" I loudly say, shaking the pan over the fire.

Minho laughs.

"Yeah, I'm with Seungyoon."

He says it with a smooth and rich voice, pronouncing the syllables of my name as if they were something really precious. My heart skips a beat.

"Okay... I'll ask him."

I turn slightly to catch his gentle smile, his gaze meeting mine. 

"Jihoon, Jiho and some friends are having beer and a game of pool later tonight. They're inviting us if you want."

I chuckle.

"Sure. I would be a fool to miss a night out with the Three Musketeers of Chaos, wouldn't I? I heard things go _wild_ when they go out."

Minho smirks, and licks his lips.

"Okay, Jihoon, we'll join you later... if we don't get too sidetracked after dinner," he says, his eyes still glued on me.

I bite my lip, turning again to pour some of the chicken broth on the vegetables, and watch it simmer while Minho finishes his call. I add the butter and the cooked chicken in the pan. Minho comes back behind me, circling his arms around my waist in a back hug. 

"Smells good."

He leaves a kiss on my nape, and hugs me tighter.

"It's something my mom showed me how to do years ago. Super easy, but really good. Even with overcooked pasta."

I stir up all the ingredients and throw in the pasta. I give it a good toss, making sure the noodles are all coated in the rich sauce and that everything is piping hot. Then, I empty the contents of the pan in a single plate, and present it to Minho. 

"Dinner is served."

Minho takes our glasses of wine and walks me to the living room, now bathed in blue and purple soft lights. I put the plate in the middle of the coffee table and take a seat on the carpet in front of Minho.

Minho raises his glass.

"To you, darling, the rescuer of our burned dinner."

I snort lightly, clicking my glass against his. 

"We're not even sure it's good yet," I reply. Eat.

I sip on my wine, watching Minho take the first bite. Seeing him smile, I guess it shouldn't be too bad. I take a bite too. The pasta has a weird texture and a light taste of char, but otherwise, it's really not bad for someone who never cooks like me. I smile in content, taking another bite.

"It's good," Minho says. "Thank you."

I lift my eyes from the plate to look at the man sitting in front of me, smiling at me, looking so beautiful even with a mouthful.

"I was hungry," he says, after swallowing his bite. "I haven't really eaten today."

"Me neither," I answer, munching on a piece of mushrooms. "I basically roamed the city all day."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to see Ihwa Mural Village early this morning, took some really great pictures there. I'll show you later. Then, I had to do some shopping for my mom. She asked me to find a long list of goods she can't order online."

I pause to take another bite.

"I also went to see my aunt and my uncle one last time, talked to them about my trip to Busan. And, after that, I went back to City Hall to check the exhibitions at the SeMA. They have some very interesting showings at the moment. There was a reallly nice one about New York artists. Like super punk and trashy stuff. It was so great."

Minho listens to my story with devoted attention. The plate of pasta is almost empty. My glass of wine too.

"And so, after the museum, I decided to walk back to my place following the Cheongyecheon stream just like you suggested a few days ago. And that's when I called you again, once I was back at the apartment."

I drink a sip of wine, not leaving Minho's gaze.

"I made sure to go back to see places I don't want to forget once I leave."

A gentle, but slightly sad, smile appears on Minho's lips. 

"Wish I'd been there."

I chuckle.

"I did call you several times."

My little laugh dies quickly.

"But, really, jokes aside, it did me good to spend some time alone. I needed it. Helped me clean up my head, made me realize that what I thought was bleak, wasn't actually as bleak as I thought it was. Sometimes, I feel like walking aimlessly is the best way I have to process thoughts and emotions I struggle to understand."

Minho nods. 

"I had a similar moment. The last days brought old memories back in my mind when I thought they were dealt with and locked somewhere. And, for me, painting has that mind-clearing ability."

I bite my lip, looking down at the empty plate on the table, then back at his eyes.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Minho gives me a little smile, and pushes away the coffee table. He leans his back against the feet of the couch, before taking my hand and pulling me towards him.

"It's alright. You're here now. I told you I love you. You told me you love me too. I wouldn't even have dared to dream about that yesterday. It seemed so out-of-reach. Even though, I know now that we were only a few words away."

I sigh, take off my glasses and leave them on the couch, to better curl up against him. His arms close around me.

"Yes, I love you," I murmur against his cheek.

Minho turns his head, reaching for my lips in a tender kiss. My heart beats like the wings of a thousand butterflies. The palms of his hands slide underneath my shirt, onto the skin of my sides, his fingers softly grazing my back.

"You're burning," Minho whispers, kissing me again more passionately. 

I moan in his kiss and roll on top of him, giving his hands better access, his thumbs now flickering my hardened nipples under the fabric. My own hands stroke his arms upward and pull off my shirt over my head. Minho does the same and gets rid of his white t-shirt too. I hover above him, letting my lips do what they want and what they love best, roaming his lips, his chin, his throat.

Minho's hands glide on my ass, pushing me further up on him, making me sit on his pelvis. His tongue run on my chest as I hold his head close to my skin, my fingers coursing through his hair, my thumb stroking his jaw with each flick of his tongue on my sensitive nipples. His lips move up to my throat and his teeth bite the soft skin of my neck when I rock my hip forward on the bulge growing in his pants.

My hands still holding the side of his face, I pull him off my neck to kiss his swollen lips with mine, my tongue playing with his lip ring. Minho's fingers run up and down my spine, as I rock myself on him, rubbing our hard-ons together through our pants. I get lost in our kiss, closing my eyes to better savour the velvety texture of his lips.

And when I open them back, it's only to gaze into Minho's shining eyes, sparkling with something that makes my heart fluster. He smiles at me, and when he does, his whole body seems to radiate.

"Gosh, I love you," Minho says, circling his arms around my body and hugging me tight, his face buried in my chest.

I exhale slowly, taking in the intense feeling of completion that rushes over me, as Minho tighten his embrace. I feel I'm burning up again.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he whispers.

I kiss the top of his hair, and lift his head up to kiss him again, gently. I lay my forehead on his, my fingers caressing his cheekbones.

"I want to make love to you," I whisper in my turn. "Would you want that?"

Minho's eyes glimmer in the blue light. I notice there is no more music, only our breathing.

"I'd love that," he answers, capturing my lips in a sultry kiss.


	26. Drunken Truths (Day 7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer : This chapter contains explicit sex scenes.

**Wednesday, January 9 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

My fingers run on the line of Minho's cheekbones, shining under the blue lights of the living room. His eyes are blazing. The contact of his skin on mine sends hot shivers down my spine.

"I want to make love to you. Would you want that?"

My voice is but a whisper against his lips.

"I'd love that," he answers, kissing me deeply.

His tongue plays with mine.

"But let's move elsewhere," he adds.

Minho grabs my waist and pulls us up on our feet.

Half-naked in the middle of the living room, with the purple and blue lights dancing around us, I feel a little dizzy from the wine. The air is thick and hot. I'm in an unravelling fantasy; my mind already imagining all the things I'll do, loving this man standing here before me.

"Come."

Minho takes my hand and drags me in the dark hallway, up to the last room on the right. He clicks a switch and little pink lights come on, giving his bedroom a soft intimate glow.

I get closer to him, unbuckling his belt and tugging on his jeans until they fall on the ground. I get off my own pants in a pretty swift move, and put my arms around his neck, pulling him in a kiss. Minho's hands caress my back, and slide into my briefs to massage my ass. We walk to the bed, stumbling in the clothes on the floor. 

"Sit on the bed, your back against the wall."

Minho hums, giving me his sexiest smile, as he falls on the bed and scoots himself up until his back leans on the bedframe. I join him, plunging in again for a taste of his lips before freeing his cock from the constraint of his boxers. Minho also peels off my underwear to better stroke my ass as I soul-kiss every inch of his body, my tongue running on his abs, descending further down to circle the tip of his cock.

My lips suck on it gently, savouring every sensation. Minho growls and his dick shudders against my palate. My hands caress his sides, pressing in the motion of my thumbs on his abs, as my head bops up and down on his cock. I lift my gaze, and my heart keels at the sight of his pleading half-closed eyes, his furrowed brow and his panting lips. I leave his erection to crawl over him, now sitting on his lap, to steal a deep kiss from his parted mouth. My kiss seems to pull him out of his haze. His eyelashes flutter and he sighs.

"You are so damn beautiful."

His voice is hoarse. His cock jerks against mine when I lean in again to kiss him.

Minho lifts himself up a little, extends an arm and opens the bed stand drawer, taking out some lube and a condom. I smirk. That bottle looks way more used than the one he brought to Busan. I pursue my kisses on his lips and his jaw while his lubed fingers caress the skin between my ass cheeks, gently penetrating my asshole, stretching me in the most delicate way. I shiver at the wet sensation of his fingers crossing, moving, and pumping inside me. 

I take the condom out of his wrapper, surprised to find it has little ridges on it, and I roll it down on Minho's length. He moans at the grip of my hand, and his fingers leave my ass. I squat over slowly, pushing myself down on his rod, then up, then down more again, repeating the motion again until I finally push down completely. The feeling of having him all inside me takes the breath out of my lungs and I close my eyes, submerged by a very warm dizziness. Minho's hands grab my arms and he growls again, his head bending back on the bed frame, exposing his throat.

I rock my hips very slowly, lowering myself to kissing the base of his neck intensely. Minho moans louder. I feel him move inside me. I moan in my turn, tilting my head back before pushing down further on him, as deep as he can get into me, pressing my ass on his lap, still languidly swaying. The motion lulls my whole body into bliss. I open my mouth in shock when my cock jolts violently, spurting my cum all over Minho's chest as I come untouched. 

Minho puts his hands on my waist and continues rocking me back and forth at the same slow-killing rhythm. I feel my skin on fire. I am clenching so hard on his cock, still riding the orgasm. I pull myself up halfway, before pushing down again, pumping onto him. The ribs on the condom give me so much pleasure I'm barely able to hold myself up. I feel Minho is losing it too. One of his hands flies up to grab his hair. The nails of the other one press in my waist. Minho closes his eyes and sighs deeply as we continue grinding in a slow pace.

I lean in, changing the angle of the penetration and get some more lube on my hands. I reach behind my back to massage Minho's balls, rolling them between my fingers, soaking them in lubricant. Minho lets out a soft cry, his chest going up and down in such a delightful way. My major glides down further, brushing past his asshole. Minho whimpers and lifts his head to search for my lips. He nibbles on them as I move on his dick, my fingers now alternating between caressing his sack and teasing his asshole. Minho tenses up. He moans against my lips, his hands gripping on my hips as he comes hard inside me. 

We stay still for a few seconds, roughly breathing, our foreheads joined in a light film of sweat. Minho slowly withdraws and my cock jolts again, hard between our stomachs. I kiss him, wanting to feel the softness of his lips on mine again and forever. Minho hums in our kiss, then breaks it to lift me up on my knees, his face now inches away from my erection. He leans forward, capturing my cock with his mouth. I rest my hands on the bedframe to maintain the position, Minho's hands holding up my ass to make sure I don't fall as he blows me away. The feeling is overwhelming. The waves of pleasure drown me with each motion of his lips, with each suction of his tongue. 

"Fuck Minho, I'm gonna come."

Minho grips my ass tighter and pushes me further in his mouth as I explode in the same waves of bliss. Minho sucks on my rod, swallowing every drop of my cum, before detaching his lips from my cock and leaving kisses of my pelvis, my tights, my hips, my navel.

He helps me fall down on his mattress. I take his face between my hands and kiss him with passion, tasting myself on his tongue. My heart is pulsating erratically. Minho closes his arms on me and hugs me tight. My lips move on his throat, gently sucking on his skin. I nest my head against his chest and listen to his heart beat as fast as mine.

A shiver shakes me from head to toe.

"You cold?" Minho asks, dragging the comforter over us and tucking us inside a cocoon like he did in our room in Busan.

I chuckle, feeling so good, nuzzled in this warm embrace.

"If you do this, we won't get to see your friends. Again."

Minho rubs his nose against mine, holding me closer.

"You still want to go out?" he inquires.

I nod. 

"I'd like that. But aren't you tired? You haven't really slept..."

Minho smiles, brushing his fingers on my frown.

"I've been through worst, don't worry."

We spend more time hugging each other under the blanket, before I slip from his hug.

"We should start cleaning yourselves up and get ready," I say, tugging on his hand. "Otherwise, your friends might think we were indeed sidetracked a couple of times after dinner."

Minho laughs, and pulls me again in the bed. 

"I don't mind getting sidetracked again."

He French-kisses me and I feel the fire beneath his breath. I moan, tasting his lips once again.

"Umm... I guess I don't mind it either..."

* * *

**{Minho}**

When we get out of my place, the night is already well underway. The streets of Itaewon are full of the lights of bars, clubs and shops still open at this hour. People gather on the heated terraces along the sidewalk. The wind blows cold on my face, but my body still burns of Seungyoon’s touches. 

"The bar is not that far. We can walk and be there in 10 minutes," I say, putting my arm on Seungyoon’s shoulders. "Is that okay with you?"

Seungyoon slides his hand in the back pocket of my pants, some place he seems to particularly affectionate tonight. And I am not complaining. 

"Sure," he answers. "I’ve never walked around here before."

"I’ll show you around."

Seungyoon’s hand squeezes my butt a little as he scoots closer to me to avoid bumping into young people smoking on the street. 

"There are so many people around," Seungyoon says, turning his head left and right to look at the shining lights. "I’m not used to getting out in the evening. Since I arrived, I only walked around early in the morning. Mainly because of the jet lag."

"It’s always full of people at night here. There are a lot of clubs, restaurants and bars."

I point at my usual chicken joint at the corner of a crossing street.

"This, for instance, is the place I get my chicken after work. It’s a decent chicken place."

Seungyoon laughs, his right hand grabbing my wrist resting on his shoulder and intertwining our fingers. 

"Tell me more."

I chuckle.

"About the chicken?"

"About all this," Seungyoon says, gesturing around with our joined hands. "Your neighbourhood. The places you walk by every day."

I lift my hand in the direction of the second floor of a building on the other side of the street.

"That’s KOZ. It’s where I worked with Jiho during the last two months."

I point again at the side street on our left.

"And, a little further down this street is where Jihoon lives. And Jiho lives three blocks from there."

"So, you all live around here, huh?" Seungyoon says.

I nod, turning my head to look at him.

"Yeah. When I was back at my parents’ place after Paris, I had to commute every time I went to work or to see my friends. In the end, I spent more time sleeping on Jihoon’s couch than in my old bedroom at my parents’ house. So, I decided to find an apartment in the neighbourhood instead."

"What did you do for work when you came here?"

"Lots of things. I worked in a coffee shop, while taking some little graphic design contracts. Mainly from people with businesses around here who came by the cafe."

Seungyoon giggles. 

"You worked in a coffee shop? I wouldn’t have expected that."

"Why is that?" I ask, in reply.

"I don’t know. I didn’t picture you as a coffee boy. But now, I kinda want to see you in a barista apron."

I laugh. 

"If you really wanna see me in an apron, I’ll show you my painting apron when we get back."

Seungyoon leans over my shoulder to whisper in my ear.

"Wearing nothing underneath?"

I turn my head until our noses touch.

"Sure, darling. Anything you want."

Seungyoon smiles and gives me a kiss. We stop in front of my favorite shady-looking building.

"We’re here," I say, pulling the black-painted door, revealing a steep staircase, only lit by red lightbulbs, descending to the basement.

Seungyoon chuckles, as he follows me down.

"This place _smells_ shady," he says.

I couldn’t agree more as the familiar smell of cold cigarette smoke, cheap beer and a hint of public restrooms fills my nostrils. I feel Seungyoon's fingers cling on mine as I walk down the last stairs and push the second door.

The bar is bathed in its usual atmosphere. Joo is working behind the bar, wearing a large army shirt that clashes with her long pink hair. Loud music is spat out by the worn-out speakers. Some neon lights are flashing in the back of the room, near the toilets. I’m actually surprised to see a lot of people in on a Wednesday night. Jiho, Jihoon, Kyuhyun and Sungwoo are playing at one of the pool tables in the middle of the place. A couple of tables away, I also spot Hyuk, Hayi and some other people I know. I turn to Seungyoon, circling an arm around his waist, guiding him to the pool table. 

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

He nods.

"I’m fine. It’s been a while since I’ve set foot in a bar like this. Since uni in Vancouver maybe. I like this trashy vibe, though."

Jiho is the first to see us and he whistles loudly over the music. Everybody stops the game to greet us. Jihoon comes forward, gives me a handshake and a pat on the back, and then also greets Seungyoon with a handshake and a smile. Jiho jumps off his stool and hugs me quite aggressively, before greeting Seungyoon the same way.

"Hey you! Long time no see! How are you?"

Seungyoon smiles at Jiho.

"I'm good, thanks. And you?"

Jiho slides in between us, putting his arms around our necks. 

"I’m better now that you’re both here."

He ruffles my hair and then points at Jihoon and Kyuhyun. 

"Those two are too easy to beat. I need a challenge."

Seungyoon laughs. I turn to look at him. I love it when he laughs like that.

"That's a good thing," Seungyoon replies. "It happens that I’m actually quite good at pool. A little rusty maybe, but I’m pretty sure I’ll make the challenge."

Jiho sneers. 

"I like the confidence. Let’s see if it’s true."

Jiho drags Seungyoon and lets him present himself to the rest of the gang. I love to see the assurance in Seungyoon's voice, the power in his stance, the constant smile painted on his face. I am very aware of Jihoon’s gaze on us. When I order beers at the bar, Jihoon joins me. 

"How are you?"

I sense the hint of concern in his voice, which is understandable considering I spent last night waking him up several times to cry over the phone. But, maybe it’s the endorphin still coursing in my veins from the after-dinner lovemaking session with Seungyoon, or the fact of having been freed from the weight of my confession, or probably both, but I feel truly wonderful.

"I feel good, Jihoon. I have trouble thinking about how I felt 24 hours ago when I feel this great right now."

I can see Jihoon is still not that reassured about my state of mind. I’ve seen this look on him many many times before.

"Did you two talk?"

I nod.

"We started the discussion."

"And?"

Joo leaves the fresh bottles of beer in front of us with a wink. I thank her and grab the bottles as I answer.

"I feel it's gonna work, bro. I think we're on the same page."

Jihoon gives me a little smile and gently pat my back.

"Talk to me if you ever feel the need, okay?"

I give him some bottles to bring to our table. 

"Of course, Jihoon. Thank you."

We walk back to the table where Seungyoon is already playing one-on-one against Jiho, sipping on a beer while Jiho calculates his ongoing move. Jihoon quickly dives back in his conversation with Kyuhyun, and Seungyoon walks over to our table when I show him the bottles I just bought. He answers me by shaking the one in between his fingers. 

"Jiho gave me one of his."

Jiho takes a shot on the white ball in a loud bang as Seungyoon leans in to steal a kiss from me. I slide a hand on his hip and kiss him a little bit more.

"Yo, can I have one of those kisses too?" Jiho shouts in Seungyoon’s back.

I lift my eyes to him, still nibbling on my favorite lips, and show him my middle finger. Seungyoon breaks my kiss and turns half around to shout back.

"Only if you win, Jiho," he replies with mocking eyes. "But I’m pretty sure I’ll win this one."

I chuckle. Seungyoon already understands how to reply to Jiho’s bullshit. I can stop worrying about that now. I take a sip of beer while Seungyoon goes back to the pool table to play his turn.

I admire Seungyoon bending over the table, adjusting the angle of his cue. He shots, and it's a perfect shot that makes two of his balls find their home. He surely wasn't lying about being good at that game.

While Seungyoon continues his streak and hits again to pocket a third ball, followed by yet another one, Jiho turns to me and yells over the music. 

"Hey Minho! I forgot I have something really important to tell you once I’m over getting beat up by your boyfriend."

I wince at the mention of the infamous word, and Jiho doesn’t miss the discomfort it brings on my face, but it doesn’t seem to disturb Seungyoon’s play.

"You know, Jiho, I can continue playing alone if you want to talk to my boyfriend," Seungyoon replies, not leaving the ball from his sight. "Just don't use him to distract me, because that's not fair."

His choice of words explode in my head. I let out a nervous laugh, and drink some more beer. But despite his concentration, Seungyoon misses his shot. He shrugs his shoulders and sends me a cute smile, before focusing back his attention on Jiho's play. Jiho sneers and tries to retrieve the score. He succeeds in pocketing a ball, then another, but misses the third one. I gaze at Seungyoon, enjoying the sight of his delicate poise, his concentrated look, his lips curling on his bottle of beer. I finish my beer in a swing, and open another one.

I must be smiling like an idiot watching Seungyoon win his game, because Jihoon and Kyuhyun chuckle next to me.

"You look happy," Jihoon simply say when I turn to look at them.

"I am."

Jiho comes back, giving his stick to Jihoon.

"Your turn. Let him kick your ass now."

Jiho sits next to me. Seungyoon comes back to the table for another beer. He turns to Kyuhyun and Sungwoo.

"Let's do teams. Two-on-two," he says.

Everyone agrees, they split in teams, Jihoon playing with Kyuhyun, Seungyoon with Sungwoo. They all strut back to the pool table. I watch Seungyoon laughing and joking around with my friends, looking carefree and relaxed. And it makes me happy to see him like that.

"Damn you're so in love dude."

Jiho's voice brings me back to reality.

"I've never seen you like this. I'm jealous now."

I snort, sipping on my beer.

"So, what did you want to tell me?"

"Okay, so I met this guy who has an art gallery this morning. Super cool guy. I showed him pictures of your paintings and he would be thrilled to host your exhibit."

I chuckle at Jiho's fast flow.

"You showed him what? My old website?" I ask.

"Yeah and pictures I had on my phone too. The paintings you gave me last year. He loved everything he saw."

"You know that more than half of the paintings on my website don't exist anymore, right? And my most recent pieces are actually drying in my studio and they definitely have another vibe to them."

Jiho hums. 

"I know. I know. But did you already think about a place? Are you still interested in having an exhibit? Because, really, I can give you that guy's number and you can talk details with him and stuff."

I laugh. 

"Yeah, okay. Sure, just text me his number."

Jiho takes out his phone lying on the sticky table, and types in something. I feel my own phone buzzing in my pants.

"Send him pictures of your recent projects. And if it works, can you please let me do an issue of KOZ on you? Please? Please? Please? Pretty please?" Jiho begs.

"Yeah, sure, hyung. To be honest, I was busy painting and, well other stuff, these past days, and I didn't think about the details of the exbihition project yet." 

I hear Jiho snort at the mention of the _other stuff_. 

"You mean you were busy boning. I get it. I would gladly tap that too if I were you."

I shake my head.

"Don't talk about Seungyoon that way, hyung. Really. It's not cool."

Jiho looks at me, and gives me an apologetic glance.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. Are you guys really official now?"

Before I can answer Jiho's question, shouts come from the pool table where Sungwoo and Seungyoon won against Kyuhyun and Jihoon. Seungyoon's deep loud voice covers all the shouts.

"You said the losers were paying a round of shots. You don't get away with this! We want our shots!"

I laugh. Wow, that guy is incredible. Jiho shouts too.

"Yeah, you losers! I want shots too!"

I gesture Joo to bring shots for everyone sitting down at the table. She gives me a thumb's up.

Seungyoon leaves his cue by the pool table and comes to sit on my lap, circling his arm around my neck and kissing my temple, before opening another bottle of beer. Shots arrive and everybody drinks up. The alcohol burns my throat. Jiho shouts another order. Joo just brings us two bottles of cheap whisky, before tending to the other drunk customers at the bar. We take shots in turn, and soon enough the level of drunkenness goes through the roof. My hands roam on Seungyoon's waist, keeping him steady against my chest while he tells obscure stories about his bartending experiences, the sob stories he heard and some of the weirdest and lewdest comments he got working behind a bar. Everyone laughs and starts talking at the same time. Jiho taps on Seungyoon's shoulder.

"I like you, Seungyoon," he slurs.

Here we go. Drunk Jiho is in the house. I should be more careful. I know him too well. When he drinks, Jiho tells truths, and they often sound like horse shit.

"I had a whole other image of you."

Jiho takes a swing from the whisky bottle and stumbles on his own feet. Seungyoon answers. I feel his voice vibrate against my chest.

"It's fine, Jiho. We didn't get to spend that much time talking in Hawaii. You got to know Jaebum. I got to know Minho."

Suddenly, I'm in this surreal moment. Did I miss something? It seems everything around us three fades away. And I am but a mere witness to the weird turn of the conversation and the unstoppable flow of the next sentences that escape Jiho's drunk mouth.

"You know Minho was crazy about you back then, right? Like crazy crazy. We even fought because he was beyond mad I kissed your ex. Have I known you were such a good guy then, I wouldn't have tried so hard to get your ex-boyfriend to fuck me. I'm sorry."


	27. Us, Only Us (Day 8)

**Thursday, January 10 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

_You got to know Jaebum. I got to know Minho._

That's what happened, right? 

For a whole day, we got to switch places. We got to spend the day with someone we didn't know. Someone who charmed us in a way or another.

I remember that day on the beach, looking through the lens of my camera, peeking at Jaebum and Jiho playing in the sea. I remember how a little part of me was happy to look at them in a distance while hearing the soft breathing of a man that wasn't mine, but could've been, next to me, under the sunshades. 

It felt wrong and good at the same time. Like a moment stolen, a moment that shouldn't have occurred. 

And I know Jaebum fooled himself too. He played the same game with Jiho and he fooled himself. Just like I did with Minho.

Because it felt good to imagine ourselves not with each other.

To imagine ourselves free from each other.

But Jaebum and I understood that a little too late. 

Absorbed by my fervent wish to salvage my relationship with him, I forgot the strangeness of the sex we had that night, our bed banging in the wall that separated us from Minho, from Jiho.

We didn't make love to each other that night. We made love to them. The guys in the next room.

We fooled ourselves.

I am dizzy. Minho is keeping me steady on his lap, but everything is swaying. I close my eyes and see, behind my eyelids, memories of Hawaii, like I'm flipping through a photobook.

I remember the next morning, in our messy room, when Jaebum told me he talked a lot to Jiho. Jiho who helped him realize things about him, about us. I knew I had the same moments with Minho. And I know how I felt with Minho. Why would it have been different for Jaebum?

I open my eyes back to look at Jiho's foggy face. It took him a moment to understand the impact of the words he just spoke. And I can see him cringe with every second passing by.

I grab the bottle of whisky from his hand and take a gulp.

"Does it really matter now, Jiho?" I ask.

I feel Minho tense up under my weight. I intertwine my fingers with his, and pull our joined hands on my stomach to give me strength, as well as to reassure him.

Jiho mumbles something, but words don't seem to be willing to come out. I continue.

"For all I know, Jaebum and I were the ones who played with you both back then... Unconsciously using you to escape our failed relationship... and maybe find solace in confiding to total strangers willing to hearken... We were the bad guys."

I stand up slowly from Minho's lap, tripping on my own wobbly legs. I reach out my hand to pat Jiho's shoulder, giving him back the whisky bottle.

"We should be the ones saying sorry."

I turn to Minho. The lines of his face are all blurry. I blink, trying to focus, as I give a sad smile in his direction.

"To the both of you."

My voice rings in my ears, the loud music in the bar seems to warp with each of my movements.

_I am so drunk._

...

Did I say that out loud?

I blink my eyes again, and fight out a nauseous gag, before finding a certain stability. 

"I'll go smoke outside," I say, my surroundings melting in a whirlwind of fuzzy images and trails of neon light.

I grab my coat and stumble to the staircase, patting my pockets to find my cigarettes. I bump in the first steps and manage to hold on to the ramp to keep me from falling. But before I start moving again, I feel a familiar presence behind me, gently grabbing my arm and helping me walk up.

_Minho_.

I smile at his touch.

"Let's go home," he says when we emerge from the staircase and reach the cold air of the street.

Maybe it could be a good idea. Going home.

_Home._

...

_Where is that?_

My head spins hard. 

"Do you need to sit down? Are you going to be sick?" Minho asks, keeping me straight against the doorframe of the bar entrance.

I feel I'm going to fall anyway.

_God, I haven't been drunk like that in ages._

Did I say that out loud again?

I laugh.

"Let me sit and smoke a cigarette and I'll be better," I manage to say, sitting on the edge of a shop window.

Minho sits next to me clumsily. I light up a cigarette, and take a drag. The displeasing taste rolls in my mouth. I throw it away and I take deep and long breaths instead. The freezing wind cleanses my mind.

Slowly, I gather my wits.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, looking at my feet.

Minho takes my hand in his, his thumb gently stroking my cold fingers.

"What for?"

"I ruined our night out."

"No, you didn't," he says. "Are you ready to move?"

I nod and he helps me get up, to the best of his inebriated ability.

He rearranges the collar of my coat, making sure it's tightly closed. I laugh at his cute gesture. Minho smiles and kisses me, swaying on his feet. His breath smells like cheap beer and vodka. Mine must taste like cigarettes and whisky. 

"Come on darling. Let's go home."

* * *

**{Minho}**

"You're not mad?" Seungyoon asks, while leaning on me while we walk back to my apartment.

The cold air slightly clears my head of the alcohol-induced haziness.

I swing our joined hands in a playful manner. Anything to make him relax, maybe even make him laugh a bit. He's uncomfortable with what happened at the bar; I know he is. 

"No, I'm not mad," I answer. "And you don't have to feel bad about anything. You just experienced an unwanted conversation with drunk Jiho. It happens all the time."

Seungyoon hums, lost in thoughts. I trip over a crack in the sidewalk, and he doesn't even notice. We stop at a red light. I take a good look at him. He's frowning and nibbling hard on his lower lip.

"But, Seungyoon, darling, you know what happened in Hawaii isn't your fault, right?"

He gives me an unsure glance. I shake his shoulder, getting him closer to me. 

"No one used anyone. Or we all used each other. I don't know. But you said it yourself; does it really matter now?"

The light turns green. We start moving again. Seungyoon stays silent, his hand still very stiff in mine. It makes me slightly panic. I won't let him close up like an oyster again. Not like in Busan. Not again. 

We arrive at my place. In the lobby of the apartment, a second before the light automatically comes on, I hold onto Seungyoon's hand, pulling him up closer to me.

"I know for a fact that our story isn't based on lies. I know we did what we thought was best. And I don't think we made any mistakes."

My finger traces Seungyoon's shivering lips, while I caress his hair.

"Don't feel guilty about us, please."

"I don't," Seungyoon answers in a very small voice. "Jiho just made me realize something I ignored for a long time. I don't feel guilty, just a bit sad."

"What is it?"

I lean forward, still a little wobbly from all the drinks. Seungyoon bites his lip, his eyes meeting mine.

"That night, when Jaebum and I went into our room, I closed my eyes and I imagined you were the one pleasuring me."

His voice cracks, as his cheeks turn red.

"And so when I opened my eyes, I felt extremely sad. And I knew I had to push you out of my head if I were to stay with Jaebum. Even though everything screamed inside me to run from that room and try to find you instead."

My heart fills with the same sadness that bathes Seungyoon's gaze.

"Oh, Seungyoon..."

I capture him in my arms, pressing him against my chest, nuzzling my face in the collar of his coat, my lips reaching the skin of his neck.

"I love you," I whisper softly.

Seungyoon's arms close on my back. He breathes in deeply. 

"I love you too," he answers as he exhales.

We let go of each other to sit down to get our shoes off, too confused to do it standing up. My hands are numb from the cold and the alcohol. Seungyoon seems to be dealing with the same issues, his fingers too numb to unlace anything. He looks at me and starts laughing. 

"Why are we so dumb?"

His laugh is contagious. I can't stop smiling at him. His eyes sparkle. Such a different mood all of a sudden. 

"I guess too much alcohol makes us dumb. Here, I'll help you."

I spin Seungyoon on his butt so he faces me and I grab his combat boots, pulling them toward me. He uncontrollably slides on his back toward me as his boots stay fit to his feet. He bursts in laughter. I pull harder and eventually get them off, his legs now on each side of my chest. 

Seungyoon stays on his back, still laughing, and grabs my arms to pull me. I giggle as I lose balance and land onto him. Seungyoon smiles and gives me a peck on the cheek. 

"Thank you," he says. 

"You're welcome," I answer, pulling us up and helping Seungyoon get out of his coat. 

I go to the kitchen to fetch us some water while Seungyoon wanders in the living room. When I come back, he is sitting on the floor, legs folded under him, skimming through my records. I sit behind him, slipping my arms around his torso and scooting myself against his back. Seungyoon takes out a vinyl record and puts it on the turntable.

The first notes of Cigarettes After Sex reverberate in the room. Seungyoon lets himself fall a little on me, his head leaning back on my shoulder. I gently kiss his skin. He moans softly. I let my hands caress him to the sound of the music, one hand sliding down his stomach, the other one tugging on his shirt to reveal the skin of his shoulder, of his collarbone. Seungyoon's hands go up over his head and glide in my hair.

"I love this album," he whispers. "It's so sensual."

I hum. My tongue traces circles on his shoulder.

"The perfect music to have very slow pleasurable sex," he adds, turning his head slightly, just enough to lick the lobe of my ear.

I couldn't agree more, as I pull him to lie down on the floor next to me, my hands still roaming his body to the eerie melody.

* * *

**{Seungyoon}**

"I promised a friend I wouldn't make this trip about you."

The water is hot and silky from the essential oils. I didn't think Minho would have such luxurious items in his bathroom, but I'm not complaining because this bath might be the most blissful sensation I felt tonight, and I did feel a lot of delightful things tonight. I lean my back on Minho's chest to let my shoulders sink under the foamy water.

"Turns out I don't know how I could've made this trip without you."

I lift a hand from the water and feel the tingling sensation of the air on my burning skin, watching the steam rise up from my fingers. Minho's hands around my waist gently squeeze me against him. I turn my head to kiss his jaw.

"Can I stay here? Until I leave on Friday?"

Minho hums. I look at his closed eyelids, the soft smile floating on his lips.

"Of course you can."

I lift myself up a bit to kiss him better.

"I want to spend all the time I can with you. Here. Just the two of us."

Minho takes water in his hands to let it run over my neck and my shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me in a soft tone.

I know he is concerned about my ups and downs. I am too. And as much as I want to believe it's only the last few tumultuous days that are the sole reason for my mood swings, I know I should probably do something about it when I'll get back home. I didn't seek professional help when Jaebum left me, but it could probably help me prevent more anxiety attacks and uncertain variations in my mood if I did.

"I feel tired. But really good."

Minho leaves a kiss on my forehead.

"Good."

He moves up so we both sit in the middle of the tub. Water gushes out and drips on the floor. I feel a cold liquid run on my shoulders before Minho's palms rub it into my skin. I inhale the aroma of the oil as Minho massages my shoulder blades, my biceps, his fingers pressing into my skin. His thumbs run down each side of my spine, and I almost purr at the feeling. I bend forward, running my hands up and down his legs as he continues to rub my back. 

"You really give good massages," I whisper.

"Thank you," Minho replies.

His fingers roll on my shoulder blades, going up my nape and end their course of my hair, massaging my scalp. I moan, the sensation of his fingertips prickling my follicles. Goosebumps rise all over my upper body. His fingers run down to my nape, gently circling my neck as his thumbs massage the tense muscles hiding in the back of my head.

"It feels so good."

Minho pulls me back down on him, my chest barely floating out of the water. His hands now work on the muscles of my chest, rubbing in more floral oil. I sigh at the pleasurable feeling of his fingers tracing circles on my skin.

We stay like this for minutes. I keep my eyes shut and breathe in deeply. Minho closes his arms around me and murmurs in my ear.

"I like this. Just you and me. _Us_."

A smile sketches on my lips. 

_Yes, I like it too. Us, only us._


	28. Paint Me in Lovely Colors (Day 8)

**Thursday, January 10 th**

**{Seungyoon}**

I had this really peaceful dream. I don't remember the exact setting, nor every detail of what happened in this hazy state, but I remember I was carefree. Surrounded by people I loved. Not worrying about a thing.

It felt good. 

Just like it feels good now, waking up like this, with Minho's arms around my chest, our bare legs intertwined, my cold feet nuzzled against his.

I open an eye, taking in the warm sensation of his skin against mine and the blanket on our bodies. The cold sun of winter is shining through the window. It's late already. Probably past noon. I lift myself up and peek around.

The wild colors, the brushes, the canvases.

His paintings.

I remember last night.

_We dozed off in the tub. When we woke up and got out of the lukewarm water, the sun was up._

_While Minho was still the bathroom, I passed by the other room of the apartment, the one filled with his works. I stepped in._

_In the sheer light of the morning, I saw vibrant yellows, intense greens, explosive pinks, grimacing figures, long fingers and twisted silhouettes._

_"It's amazing," I whispered to myself, in awe._

_I walked around the room, my fingers lingered on the top of the paintings. I muffled a yawn. The long night was taking its toll._

_"You want to sleep?" Minho asked, putting his chin on my shoulder and embracing me from behind._

_I didn't hear him come in._

_"Yes, I do. But I also want to look at your paintings. This one in particular."_

_I pointed at the blue painting, the one that looked like great waves colliding. Minho gave me an amused look._

_"Really?"_

_"It's beautiful."_

_I remember he chuckled and sat us down in front of the large canvas._

_"Of course it is. It's you."_

_He pulled a blanket over my shoulders. I looked at him with confused eyes._

_"I painted it thinking about you."_

We must have felt asleep watching the waves, here, on the floor of the studio. I adjust the blanket on Minho. He grunts softly in his sleep. I get up and walk to the kitchen, still groggy. In the cupboard, I find some instant coffee and cups. I put water to boil while I clean up the mess we left on the kitchen counter and in the sink yesterday. The kettle whistles and I pour the hot water on the coffee powder. 

I go back to the studio with the cups of coffee. Minho is still asleep on the floor, with his messy blonde hair and his feet sticking out of the blanket. I sit down next to him and look around at the paintings. My eyes stop once again on the blue waves. As my fingers play with Minho's hair, I consider the subtle structure of the image, the strong lines, and the finer ones, the movement that links them, that makes the painting breathe on its own.

I recognize myself in it. He painted me in waves. And I like it a lot. 

I turn a little to take my cup of coffee when I see a pot with clean brushes next to me. I take one of them. The bristles are soft and silky. I gently pass it over my lover's nose, over his cheekbones, his jawline, as if I'm painting his features in lovely colors. 

_My lover_.

I smile at the thought.

Minho's eyelids flutter as he wakes up. He chuckles and smiles. 

"Good morning."

I lean in to kiss him.

"Good morning, sleepy head. I made you some coffee."

Minho lifts himself on his elbows and takes the cup I give him. 

"Thank you. You're okay? Not too hungover?"

I giggle.

"I'm fine. Maybe just a little hazy. You?"

"I'm okay."

We take some time in silence, sipping on our cups. I gaze at the paintings around us, while sensing Minho's eyes on me.

"Your work is really interesting. I'm no expert, but this is amazing. And being surrounded by all of these colors is really impressive."

"I painted that series during the last few days."

Minho puts his empty cup on the floor.

"I need to update my portfolio. When I took this month off from work, I had in mind to start painting again, more seriously, and maybe host an exhibit." 

"That sounds like a great idea."

"I have to contact a guy who could be interested in hosting it at his gallery, but I have yet to show him my most recent works."

I smile, looking at his furrowed brow. 

"Wait, I'll help you."

I get up on my feet to fetch my bag in the lobby. I take out my digital camera. 

"I'll take pictures and I'll send them to you. That way, I'll get to keep them as well. Just for my own pleasure."

I give him a grin and Minho replies with a beaming smile.

"Okay, deal."

We spent the next hour moving around the paintings so I can take good pictures of them in the right lighting and angle. 

"We should take pictures of you painting too," I say after completing the series. 

Minho shrugs his shoulders and nods. 

"Yeah, okay. Why not?"

He takes out an already prepped canvas with fine lines drawn with a lead pencil and he starts mixing his colors. I immerse myself in the role of a high-class photograph, trying to document every step of his creative process.

But I end up taking more intimate pictures. Of the way his fingers hold the brush, or of how his face becomes stern when he's deep in his thoughts. Close-ups of his face, of his eyes, of his curled-up silhouette in front of this large canvas. Pictures of the tattoos on his back, on the side of his torso, on his chest. Every bit of his perfect skin that peeks through his cut-up t-shirt.

"Are you sure you're taking pictures of me for my portfolio?"

I lift my head up from my camera and chuckle.

"Nah, some of them are only for me."

I drop the camera on a stool. Minho turns around to face me, and, before I can acknowledge what he's doing, the brush in his hand traces a line of pink paint on my bare chest. I open my jaw in surprise and laugh.

"What are you doing?"

Minho gives me a devilish smile.

"Getting inspired."

I laugh as he moves the brush in a horizontal motion on my stomach. 

"I don't mind being your canvas," I murmur.

Minho lifts an eyebrow and grins, putting his fingers in the colors on his mixing pad, before getting closer. His lips capture my lips in a kiss as his hand traces lines of colors on my jawline, on my throat. I moan at the slippery sensation of the paint on my skin. Minho lays me down on my back, placing the blanket in a roll under my head, before kissing me deeper.

The paint is cold. The brush tickles when it caresses the skin of my chest. I feel jolts of pure energy coursing up and down my spine.

Seated on my thighs, lovingly trapping me under him, Minho smiles at my every shiver, biting his lip as he draws some more figures on my body. Different shades of colors cover his hands and his forearms up to his elbows.

I lift my hands to intertwine my fingers with his. Minho drops his brush when my painted hands slide inside his shirt and start playing with his harden nipples. He grunts and sighs adorably before plunging to kiss my lips. I slip his t-shirt over his head and pull him to me, imprinting the intricate colorful design on my skin onto his bare chest as well, creating our combined work of art.

~°°°~

It is quite late when we decide, after much fun and a well-deserved shower, to get my luggage at my rented apartment and clean everything there before coming back here. As hours fly by, I feel more and more gloomy, but I try my best to put the thoughts of me leaving aside and fully enjoy the present moment.

Before going back to Dongdaemun, we stop by a small restaurant.

"You shouldn't leave South Korea without having some real Korean food," Minho says.

The place is packed with people. It smells incredibly good and food on the tables around us looks delicious. 

Minho orders a bunch of different stuff and soon enough the plates arrive on the table, full of meat, noodles, dumplings and fermented vegetables. I recognize some of the dishes —jajangmyeon, bossam, japchae—, but others I have not the slightest idea.

Filling our stomachs to content, Minho and I start talking about us. Head-on. 

"It'll work, right?"

I know I'm making my face again. The one with the line digging a wrinkle between my eyebrows. 

"We'll do our best to make it work," Minho answers in a soft voice. "And if we see it doesn't work, well, at least we'll know we tried."

He grabs my hand on the table and squeezes it gently. 

"We'll try to see each other in person, one way or another. But in the meantime, we'll video call and talk on the phone. Just like we did before."

I sigh and pout.

"After the last few days, it seems to be so little," I say. "Even though I know it worked well for me before, you and me on each side of the planet talking over the phone, I don't know if it will be enough for me after what we had here. Together."

Minho hums.

"It'll be hard, I think, because we got used to being together a lot since you came here. And this was new, exhilarating. But we shouldn't lie to ourselves, we're clearly honeymooning. Even if you stayed, this feeling, as extraordinary as it may feel, would tone down a bit."

God, he's right. Of course he is. We're feeling the magic of our first moments together, and it feels incredible.

"You're right," I answer. "We're clearly living a special bubble right now. But I wouldn't mind settling in a more comfortable, casual lifestyle with you. Getting to learn how to be in love with you without a timer over our head."

Minho smiles and kisses my hand.

"I'd like that too. And we'll find a way to experience that. But, meanwhile, I think it will do us good to take the rhythm of our lives back, and enjoy talking and doing, you know, _other things,_ together, but in a distance."

He grins and his eyes shine in the dim light of the restaurant.

"Then, let's have lots of sex over the phone."

My answer makes him laugh hard. Little wrinkles appear on the side of his eyes. His pearly white teeth gleam as his tongue runs on his lower lip. Gosh, he's sexy.

His phone buzzes on the table, interrupting my train of thoughts. Minho flips it to look at the message.

"It's Jiho. He says he's sorry for yesterday. I'll just tell him everything is fine."

He starts typing back in the chat.

"I should talk to him," I say. "Not necessarily tonight, but soon. When we're both sober. I don't want him to feel bad."

Minho looks back at me and nods.

"I understand. I'll ask him if I can give you his number."

He puts the phone back on the table and continues eating. And I do the same.

"Is it true you guys fought over what happened in Hawaii?"

Minho's lips twist and he starts playing with his piercing.

"Yeah, we did. And it was ugly. I spent the night sleeping on the beach because I didn't want to confront him."

He gives a side glance at his phone.

"Jiho seemed to have a little something for your ex. I guess it's what happens when someone totally opens up to you. Jiho told me one day he was a little jealous that you and I got to see each other again, but Jaebum never made contact with him after our trip."

I shake my head. I understand that. I completely understand that. Poor Jiho.

"He got over it though, don't worry!" Minho adds. "But maybe seeing you yesterday made him rethink about all that."

"That's what I also thought," I reply. "I mean, for Jaebum and Jiho. Looking back at the pictures I had from our vacations, rummaging through my memories, and with the little things Jaebum told me about his conversations with Jiho, I figured something might have happened between them two."

"And it didn't bother you?"

"Yes, a bit. But Jaebum was already gone when I came to that conclusion. Like I said, it hurt me when I realized it, but it really doesn't matter anymore. I just feel bad for Jiho. And I don't want him to feel bad."

Minho takes my hand again, strokes my fingers and smiles.

"I'll make sure you get to talk to him. Don't worry."

~°°°~

We arrive at the rented apartment and I feel I haven't been there in ages, even though I only left for 24 hours. I open up my suitcase and start rolling my clothes, putting in all the things my mom wanted me to bring back to Canada.

"Herb tonic tea? Really?" Minho chuckles, showing me the box of tea amongst the eclectic objects on the floor.

"My mom. She was adamant that I bring back this exact brand."

"It's funny," he says. "Usually people bring back red ginseng, not a drugstore sort of instant tonic tea."

I laugh.

"I got some of red ginseng too, somewhere. My mom is like a really old lady in the body of a not-so-old adult."

Minho chuckles and skims through my purchases of yesterday morning. 

"You bought CDs?"

I stop packing to look at the plastic boxes in his hands.

"These are old albums," he says. "And you bought them all in two copies?"

"I traced back some of the songs my mom used to listen when I was a kid. I bought a copy for her and another one for my own collection."

Minho hums, reading the tracklists on the albums.

"I really like that song," he says. "Kim Kwang Seok. _A Love That Hurts Too Much Isn't Love._ "

I remember that song well. 

"My mom used to listen to that song a lot," I say.

"It's a sad song. But a really beautiful one too."

I nod slowly and sit on the bed. I'm starting to get nostalgic already, looking at all the memories I'm pilling up in my suitcase. Minho must have sensed my mood. He puts the records back on the table and sits next to me, embracing me in his arms.

"Hey, don't get sad yet. You're still here, right? And I'm still here."

Minho's lips feel warm and soft against mine. I pull him down with me on the mattress as I deepen our kiss. He hugs me tight as he kisses me back. His fingers linger on my cheeks. I close my eyes to savour his sweet kisses descending on my chin, on my neck, chasing away the sorrow that I felt seconds before.

"You still have some color here."

I open my eyelids to watch Minho lick his finger and rub off a drop of paint from my neck. I smile, ready to reply some funny line.

But then he looks at me, and I see it.

Glittering in Minho's eyes right now. I know what that is. It's something I haven't seen for a long time.

It's love. Genuine love.

My heart explodes and I start crying, all emotions mixed together.

The sentimental burst makes me laugh in my cries. I must look like a madman.

Minho looks at me surprised, smiling, but frowning at the same time. He wipes my tears with his fingers, caressing my face.

"What is it?"

I chuckle, in between two sobs.

"I'm happy you're part of my life now."

A tear sparkles in the corner of Minho's eye.

"Me too, darling."

He leans in and leaves soft kisses on my lips.

"But you have to stop crying now, or you'll make me cry too," he laughs, his lips still so close to mine.

"Then cry too. Because I don't want to stop crying. Not if you kiss me like that."

"Okay, but I'm warning you, we'll drown."

"I don't care. Kiss me again."


	29. Goodbyes (Day 9)

**Friday, January 11 st**

**{Minho}**

I mix in the milk with the flour, adding the eggs, and whisking the dough until it's smooth and not too liquid, just like my mom told me over the phone five minutes ago.

I'm making pancakes. It's not waffles, but it was the only thing I could make that resembled the first brunch Seungyoon and I had together in Seoul. I even went to the nearest convenience store to buy an overpackaged and overpriced basket of strawberries for the special occasion.

I turn my head towards the hallway and listen. Not a sound. Seungyoon must still be sleeping in the bedroom. When I left him alone in the bed an hour ago, he was slightly snoring with his cheek squashed into my pillow, a ton of blankets covering him from head to toe. I'm happy he could get some sleep after all. God knows we both needed it after days functioning on only a few hours of slumber.

And it did take me everything to convince Seungyoon to sleep last night.

_"I don't want to miss a single moment with you before that dreadful plane takes me back home," he told me last evening, nestled against my side as we stroll down the streets of Itaewon._

_The night was gentle, not too cold and not too windy. A rare thing around here._

_We took our time, after having dropped Seungyoon's suitcase at my place, to walk along the quieter streets of my neighbourhood, the both of us agreeing that a stroll be probably the best way to finish our conversation from dinner._

_Less chance to just forget about everything we wanted to say and lose ourselves in a series of intoxicating kisses again._

_Seungyoon's lips tend to erase my short-term memory every time they brush my skin. Not that I complain when they do, but Seungyoon and I did want to talk things through and imagine our future together before tasting each other in the sheets of my bed again and again until morning came._

_"After my exhibit, if it happens, I could come to see you in Toronto. Mainly to meet Thor, my greatest competition."_

_Seungyoon pushed me on the side of the sidewalk with his shoulder._

_"Very funny. But, jokes aside, it would be amazing if you could come and visit."_

_"I do think it can happen. I'm used to working on different contracts anyway. Taking a small break in between wouldn't be a challenge."_

_Seungyoon hummed._

_"And I think I can probably manage to fly here at least once a year," he said. "Maybe for even longer than this time. I mean if all I have to do is buy a plane ticket and join you here with the usual expenses of everyday life, I guess I can take a month off or something. I don't think it will be a problem for Jinwoo. January is usually a slow month at the record store. By the way, when is your birthday?"_

_"March 30 th. Why?"_

_"Then maybe I could come back here around your birthday next year? I would want to see spring in Seoul with you."_

_"Yeah, we can do that. Or you can come at Christmas and spend the holidays with me. Meet my family. You could stay till after your birthday. Or I can come to Canada and celebrate with you, your mom and your friends."_

_"Both could work. I mean, I guess we'll have to improvise along the way."_

_We kept conversing and dreaming of the possibilities, Seungyoon's shoulder leaning on mine, our fingers intertwined in my pocket to keep them from freezing. I felt good, and I knew, by gazing into the stars gleaming in Seungyoon's eyes, that it made him feel good too._

_Planning a future together, however vague and imaginary it may be, reassured us both._

_Sharing a dream is such a sweet and precious thing._

_We slowly made our way back home. In the lobby, we got out of our coats and Seungyoon grabbed his camera, then gently took my hand, leading me to my bedroom. He was smiling, his eyes sparkling._

_"Let's make ourselves more memories," he hushed, while closing the bedroom door behind us._

_I'll remember last night as one of the most beautiful moments spent with Seungyoon. Each of our touches had a special electricity to them. We made love like we belonged together, like nothing was standing in our way._

_In between our fiery kisses, our untamed moans, and the flash of the camera capturing our most intimate instants, the clock ticking away didn't bother us anymore. We vanquished our fear of running out of time._

_Because we were in love and we had a future._

The pancake mixture is sizzling in the pan, filling the air of the apartment with a sweet aroma. I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around to see Seungyoon entering the kitchen, still sleepy and staggering on his feet, scratching his tousled hair, the wrinkled sheets imprinted on his bare chest and his left cheek.

Such a pretty sight.

I smile and look at the clock.

_10:00_

Just enough time for us to have brunch and get ready to leave for the airport.

We ride to Incheon, Seungyoon's suitcase carefully tied up on my motorcycle. It's going to be weird riding alone after this. I'll surely miss Seungyoon's warm presence against my back, his hands tightly clutched on my stomach.

The airport is overwhelmingly full of travellers roaming in every direction. The sound of the suitcases rolled on the floor and the soft voice of the announcer resonate through the commotion. 

I help Seungyoon print his tickets at a booth, and we wait in line to process his luggage. The plane being overbooked, we were told Seungyoon had to register his small suitcase as a checked-in baggage to free some space in the overhead compartments.

Seungyoon gives me a small smile and sighs as we stand in line at the counter. Then, he leans his head on my shoulder.

"Thank you for waiting with me."

I leave a small kiss on his temple, circling my arm around him. 

Too soon enough, the suitcase is sent away on the conveyor belt. Seungyoon gets his passport and his ticket back, and, as we are standing next to the big doors leading to the security check, it dawns on me. This is it. He's leaving.

My Seungyoon is leaving. 

People pass us by, but time freezes. 

Seungyoon gets closer to me. His breath is a little heavier, his lips parted. Slowly his eyes redden and fill up with tears. I know he's going to cry.

Gosh, I'm going to cry too. This hurts.

I pull him in the tightest hug, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead. My hands are shaky. A tear escapes my eye and rolls down on my cheek. I hug him a little tighter, nesting my head in the crook of his neck. Seungyoon gently lifts my chin and kisses me.

I can't honestly believe I won't be able to taste those lips again before long. Too long. 

Seungyoon's face is damp with tears, but he tries to keep his composure. I kiss him back more eagerly, breathing in our kiss like it's my only source of air, not caring about the strangers moving around us.

Seungyoon breaks the kiss first, and looks deep in my eyes. My fingers caress his cheek.

"Call me when you land," I say, my voice hoarse and a little broken.

Seungyoon nods.

"I will."

I lean to kiss him again.

"I love you."

"Love you too."

Seungyoon sighs and takes a few steps back, still holding my hand with the tip of his fingers. My heart sinks, as I pull softly, trying to bring him back to me. Seungyoon tilts his head to the side and comes closer to hug me.

"Hey, Minho. We said we'll make it work, okay. It's gonna be okay."

I nod, feeling so weak in his arms. 

"I have to go," Seungyoon whispers. 

I barely hear him in all the airport ruckus.

"Okay. Have a safe trip."

"Thanks."

I let him go. Seungyoon gives me a little smile before leaving through the gate, disappearing in the flow of people.

In the middle of this nameless crowd, I suddenly feel very sad.

Alone.

After a long moment standing in place like a statue made of stone, I manage to move my feet and sit on a nearby bench.

It feels like I should be waiting. Everything tells me I should wait. He'll come back, right?

Minutes fly, and even though my eyes try to pierce the crowd, I can't see him anywhere. I'm only confronted to a multitude of unknown faces.

And then, my phone buzzes. A text message.

_just passed the security control_

Then, another one.

_miss you already_

My phone makes a long buzzing sound as I receive in a batch all the pictures Seungyoon took of my paintings. 

_found my transfer cable in my bag. so you can send those pictures to your gallery guy_

Another picture pops up. The selfie they took on the floor of the studio, naked and covered in colorful smudges of paint, laughing.

_there are some i think i'll keep for myself tho_

I smile, reading his message.

_or i'll send them to you every now and then_

_so you don't forget me_

A tremor shakes my body as I sense a pinch in my chest.

_i love you_

I wipe the water accumulating in the corner of my eyes. A large tear falls on the screen. I grin like an idiot as I type.

_i love you too_

_and i won't ever forget you_


	30. Epilogue

**{Seungyoon}**

"It's still early. You need help unpacking some boxes?"

I smile back at Jinwoo as I close the door of the record store. Thor, nestled in my coat, whimpers when the cold wind ruffles his fur.

"Thanks, but I'm almost done, really. There are just my music collection and my books to sort out on the shelves. Everything else is settled."

The wind whips our faces. So far, February is definitely colder than January had been. Jinwoo shivers and chuckles.

"Even the mysterious present you received for your birthday?"

I smile wholeheartedly thinking about Minho's present waiting for me in my living room, still wrapped in the delivery box it flew in directly from Seoul.

"I was asked specifically to only open it when I'm settled in my new apartment. Minho was quite stubborn about it. But I think I'll open it tonight."

Thor whines. I cover his ears with my wool scarf and bring his head closer to my chest.

"I better go home. Before we freeze out."

Jinwoo nods vigorously.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you."

Jinwoo waves at me and I hop on my bike to drive the two blocks up to my apartment.

It still feels a little weird, coming back home from work to a new place, smelling like fresh paint and floor wax, but I know I made the right choice to move. When I came back from Seoul, being in my old apartment felt so wrong. It seemed it belonged to another life of mine.

While packing my stuff in cardboard boxes, I threw out tons of things that reminded me too much of my past relationship, things I used to hold on just for the sake of it. Minho often held me company by video call while I was packing which helped me not to feel too overwhelmed by the trip down memory lane. I used to stop rummaging through my stuff from time to time and just watch him paint on the screen of my phone, hearing him softly breathe in my earbud.

I would lie saying I wasn't anxious when I kissed Minho goodbye at Incheon Airport and flew back in Toronto. I was so scared our feelings for each other would wither away. But, once we plunged ourselves in our respective routines, Minho and I were quickly back to our old ways, texting each other at all hour, video calling, sending pictures and videos by the dozens.

I missed his touch so much, though. The first two weeks when I came back from Seoul were the most challenging. I longed for our skinship, for the taste of his lips, his scent and each of his caresses. It felt like withdrawal. And Minho dealt with the same issues too. So, we managed to find ways to satisfy our thirst for each other through the screens of our phones, our cameras capturing the intimate moments we exchanged in between the sheets of two beds separated by more than 10 000 kilometers.

Of course, it wasn't the same, but it was the best we could do.

As soon as I enter my apartment, Thor jumps out of my coat to run to the corner of the house where I put all his toys. I laugh watching him fumble on his long frizzy legs and glide on the wooden floor.

I take off my jacket and I walk up to the living room. There it is, the large brown package, gently waiting for me to open it. I figured it must be a painting, but Minho kept it a secret as to which painting he sent me. I know it's probably not one from his exhibition since it's supposed to start in a few days.

I grab my phone and take a picture of the package.

_i'm unpacking it tonight, do you want to be there for the reveal?_

My phone rings within seconds. I answer, smiling at Minho's loving gaze on the screen.

"Hello my darling," he says. "How was your day?"

"Busy, but Thor and Jinwoo were there, so it was a good day. You?"

"I woke up two hours ago. Yesterday was busy too. I had to deal with Seunghyun hyung for the last details of the exhibition. We're pretty much ready for launch now."

Minho's eyes shine of excitement and it feels me with joy.

"I'm so proud of you, babe," I say, my heart melting, seeing the pure expression of glee on his face.

"So, you're ready to open your present?"

I turn the phone around the room.

"As you can see, it's mostly the last thing still in a box in my apartment. I'm ready."

Minho chuckles.

"Okay, then. Open it."

I position the phone on the couch and use a letter opener to cut through the tape keeping the box closed. The cardboard falls on the floor. I delicately take off the tissue paper covering the painting.

I gasp, seized by an intense emotion.

Before me, great waves crashing in shades of blue.

"You... you..."

I search for words, my eyes glued to the painting. In the earbud lodged in my ear, Minho whispers.

"Happy birthday, darling. And congratulations on our new apartment."

I'm choking on the tears I try to muffle.

"Seungyoon, don't cry, darling," Minho softly says.

I smile and take in my hands my phone showing the face of my loving boyfriend.

"Thank you. Thank you, Minho. I love you."

Minho smiles.

"I love you too."

Thor comes in jumping around the tissue paper on the floor, stopping our tender conversation. I chuckle gently as I take him in my arms. He licks the salty tears on my cheeks.

"Where are you going to hang it?"

I put Thor down on the floor and lift the painting. Carefully, I put it on the television cabinet.

"Maybe one day I'll hang it on this wall here. But for now, I clearly need to look at this painting more than I need a TV."

Minho laughs.

"Hey, darling. I have to go," he says. "It's almost noon here, and I have to be at the gallery in a few minutes."

I nod, smiling.

"I'll probably go to sleep in an hour or two."

"Okay, good night then."

"Have a good day."

"Love you."

"Miss you."

We hang up, and I'm happy and sad at the same time. I look at my baby Thor playing with his toys. Then I look at Minho's painting, and the portrait of the little family I dreamed of sketches itself. It may not be perfect, but now I feel it's our place, mine, Thor's and somewhat Minho's too.

I take out my guitar from its case, grab my notebook and I sit in front of the blue waves, ready to work on my new project.

* * *

**{Minho}**

Even the white noise of the plane does not calm the nervous feeling growing inside as the distance between me and Seungyoon shrinks by the minute. I distractedly flip through the last KOZ issue I brought with me.

Jiho did a good job with the article about my exhibition. The pictures of the installations are great and I do think it gives out a good impression of what it felt like to be there. I wished Seungyoon could've been with me at the launch, but instead I gave him a personal tour, us alone, by interposed screens when everybody left the gallery. Seungyoon is probably my biggest fan, more than any of the people that bought my exposed pieces of art. I can't wait to show him my new works. I open my bag to take out my phone and I see the CD carefully placed between my doodle notebook and a detective novel Seungyoon sent me some weeks ago.

_"Did you receive my package?"_

_Seungyoon smiled widely in the screen of my phone. I walked by my front door to check the mail. On my doorstep was a small square-shaped box._

_"Think of it as an I-miss-you-very-much gift."_

_I chuckled and walked back to the kitchen to open the package. Inside, I found a series of photos we took with Seungyoon's Leica during the time he was here._

_"You had them developed," I said, really touched to see those evanescent memories materialized between my fingers._

_Seungyoon smirked._

_"Of course I did. Our best pictures were taken with that camera."_

_I continued looking inside the box and I took out a book._

_"I'm sure you'll like it," Seungyoon said. "It's a really good story. I loved it."_

_I nodded, turning the book to read the back cover._

_"But that's not the real gift..."_

_I looked at Seungyoon, then at the box. There, at the bottom, a plastic CD case with a Post-it attached to it, listing song titles and a note._

_—For you, my love, who gave me the idea and the courage to follow my dream—_

_"I recorded my songs."_

_Holding the CD box in my hands, my heart filled itself with joy and warmth._

_"I send it to some of my old contacts in Vancouver. I'll try to release it for real."_

_I smiled._

_"But that's a special version," Seungyoon added, biting his lower lip. "I put songs only for you on that CD. Some of your personal favorites. I hope you'll like it."_

_I chuckled, and tears appeared in my eyes._

_"Thank you, darling. It's a wonderful gift."_

_I put back the pictures, the book and the CD on the kitchen counter._

_"I have a surprise too," I said._

I remember how Seungyoon laughed when I told him I was coming to see him a couple of weeks later in March.

"I know," he said. "I was on the phone with Jiho when he and Jihoon bought your tickets online."

My boyfriend plotting with my two best friends to get me on a plane across the planet for my birthday, I couldn't dream for a better gift.

What I didn't tell Seungyoon was that I started to fill out the documents for a work permit in Canada.

To be honest, my enthusiasm was a little waned when I learned I needed to have an accepted job offer and a letter of recommendation to get the permit, which meant applying to a company and compete with lots of other applicants. It could take a lot of time and effort to be able to get a job.

But when I talked about this to Seunghyun hyung that owns the gallery, he gladly said he'd be looking amongst his Canadian contacts to see if he could find someone who could be looking for a graphic designer or an illustrator. I thanked him and told him I would still wait to come back to South Korea to finish the paperwork anyways and do some job research on my own too.

Nonetheless, my hopes were high. Even if I went back home in a few weeks, the next time I'd see Seungyoon in Canada, I would probably be able to stay there for a while. With him.

Maybe we would have this chance to share the little peaceful loving life we envisioned together.

_"So, you'll be my date to Jinwoo and Seunghoon's wedding on April 4th?" Seungyoon asked me. "You'll see me perform live if you do."_

_I laughed._

_"Of course, I'll be your date. I'm sure you look amazing in a suit."_

_Seungyoon smirked._

_"I'm also training a new employee to take care of the record store for the next few weeks, with the wedding and everything. Meaning, more time for us."_

_A light shone in Seungyoon's eyes. Oh, and I knew that this look could only mean we probably wouldn't leave his bedroom for an entire week._

The plane lands on the runway at Toronto Pearson International Airport. I go through customs, and fill out the paperwork for my luggage and the paintings that are coming tomorrow on another plane, to be delivered at Seungyoon's place. When everything is settled, I take out my phone.

_i landed. where are you?_

The answer comes quickly.

_outside door C-3. couldn't find a spot to park my bike._

I find the right exit and walk out of the airport. The air still smells like winter here, but there is a hint of hope that makes it feel like spring.

Amongst the crowd of people waiting outside, I recognize Seungyoon's silhouette, leaned on his motorcycle. I stop right in front of him and smile. Seungyoon's face radiates as he smiles back.

"Hello, darling."

I lean in to brush my thumb on Seungyoon's lips. My hands are shaking.

"I missed you," I whisper.

Fire courses down my spine. It feels like my fingers leave sparks on Seungyoon's skin. 

His cheeks turn red, and his eyes blaze.

"I missed you so much," he says.

Seungyoon picks up my face between his cold hands and brings my lips to his. His tongue asks permission to enter my mouth and I gladly part my lips, letting him kiss me deeply.

We're burning, ablaze in the middle of a crowd of strangers. And it feels so damn good.

"God, I missed you too."

My hands slip inside his coat, my fingers grasping his waist, pulling him against my body. I shiver.

"Kiss me again," he says, trembling under my touch.

I kiss him back, hugging him tight. I missed his taste, his scent, his presence. We break our kiss, feeling the electricity sizzle in our embrace.

Seungyoon whispers in my ear, catching his breath, his hands resting on my hips.

"Come on. Let's go home."

— **THE END** —


End file.
